Thursday, September 23, 2010

one blinding angel from the clouds please

run to the church
or fly away afar
fly away to mountains
or the town bazaar

and come back with a pill
or a miracle herb
or a promise from the lords
to heal, to curb

to curb the skin
to stop the crawl
of the mice and snakes
inside my shawl

inside my skin
sliding on my spine
pinching, the leeches,
the sons of swine

there must be cure,
some holy water pure
some blister buster
or a potent blessing sure

it bleeds it bleeds
but nothing leaks out
i'm a big red rash
burst-filled and stout

but i know what i need
i know what'll do it
i need a needle
with a silver feather to it

all the pus will be out
with all the rage fickle
the needle will sew the wound
under the feather's tickle