10-03-2013, 11:35 AM
"The heart of Bethlehem's beatin' in you",
he said as she flicked off a splash,
then wiped the blade on one of the Psalms.
A window sayin' "shush..." with ratty curtains,
two leather chairs, a corpse in one, no light
except the sun, a litany of prayers
from left to right, an open door behind.
"I love ya' daddy", says the girl, with cares
only for knives and God. Eighteen years
and not a day with mind for school or boys.
"That thing won't keep" he says, looking lightly
at the whore, whose eyes don't leave the open door.
"You think he fucks her?" one kid asks his friend,
the voice a phantom in the darkened hall.
"Body or girl?" is his reply, munching.
he said as she flicked off a splash,
then wiped the blade on one of the Psalms.
A window sayin' "shush..." with ratty curtains,
two leather chairs, a corpse in one, no light
except the sun, a litany of prayers
from left to right, an open door behind.
"I love ya' daddy", says the girl, with cares
only for knives and God. Eighteen years
and not a day with mind for school or boys.
"That thing won't keep" he says, looking lightly
at the whore, whose eyes don't leave the open door.
"You think he fucks her?" one kid asks his friend,
the voice a phantom in the darkened hall.
"Body or girl?" is his reply, munching.
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe