sacrifice (poem)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Historical Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

The burning of humans at the stake, a barbaric practice, critiqued.

first

they dragged the fair-haired maiden

to the burning cross

in rancor, she flailed

the jostling mobs aroused

salivating in the dust and dirty boots

lips gnarled with lust

un-Christed souls

any of you, it won’t matter

which one, your smudged faces

so long as the fires are lit

bodies shuddering in wood sparks

and flame

we have what we need!

we have what we need!

you who snicker were never taught this

goddamn, not a word of this

was imbued, not in this house

or schoolroom

nor around this supper table

we learned it ourselves, you cried

all by ourselves

from deep pits of guile and guilt

good craven companions

our souls are like matchbooks

evil sets us aflame

though the truest death

was in love, and you knew it

on the cross

 


Submitted: October 16, 2020

© Copyright 2020 Ron Micci. All rights reserved.

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