Cold Water

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 04, 2018

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Submitted: August 04, 2018

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Cold water for my lips and a traitor’s final kiss

At least permit me these

While the choir sings in requiem and condemnation

The congregation is congregating

Walking wildly towards a metaphor; speaking constantly

About their burning fire

Their paper messiah

 

And

When

His

Hand

He will separate the sheep Comes From the people like me

Crashing

Down

Upon

Us


© Copyright 2018 Brett F Wondrak. All rights reserved.