Monday, September 08, 2008

chasing the trance

old ladies, swaying, clapping
moving to that strange unseemly rhythm
blue hair, silken, unnatural hair
praying in the dimmery of the day
done chasing lost souls, are they

sit down where the old men hunker
polished pews, flickered candles
as they watch their women
chase the trance, watch their
tongues call jesus

holy, holy, what a fine diversion
keeps me satisfied, keeps me warm
ain't no devil knocking, knocking
at this homely, cherished door
listen, won't you, to salvation
may keep you kneeling
on the floor

old ladies, swaying, praying
up to the dawn
selling penance, oh ain't it pretty
i hear forgiveness in the wind
yes, if i had my way, that hot wind
would kiss these lips, and
i'd burn this old place down


Anonymous sarah flanigan said...

the rhythym is intoxicating. like a song you can't get from your head. beautiful.

7:19 PM  
Blogger Pearl said...

yes, the rhythms gonna get me too.

chasing the trance, Jesus on her lips

9:12 AM  
Anonymous United World Poets said...

Nice work. Good poem.

3:34 PM  

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