MERCY
Didn't know every poem
was a love poem.
She believed it-
invisible or indivisible
Overcame the odds;
Same pitch, new fight,
New itch for life's delight-
Where have I heard that before?
Were there people in your way, hon?
Her father took the girl, sixteen
To a rich man's home.
She wrote, "I like your house."
He married her.
I want that Sunday love..
Midnight visions,
Whisky sour,
The can of wolves,
To sign on the line
Again-
Hush of hearts,
Prey, pray, prey our prayer
Bloody Heavens!
Martha, Jesus, she's homeless.
She likes chicken pot pie.
Again and again,
The way it used to be
On her table, savory
Like mercy.
- J. Circosta, Tiny Poet, 8.19.2017
Writings on the Wall
Didn't know every poem
was a love poem.
She believed it-
invisible or indivisible
Overcame the odds;
Same pitch, new fight,
New itch for life's delight-
Where have I heard that before?
Were there people in your way, hon?
Her father took the girl, sixteen
To a rich man's home.
She wrote, "I like your house."
He married her.
I want that Sunday love..
Midnight visions,
Whisky sour,
The can of wolves,
To sign on the line
Again-
Hush of hearts,
Prey, pray, prey our prayer
Bloody Heavens!
Martha, Jesus, she's homeless.
She likes chicken pot pie.
Again and again,
The way it used to be
On her table, savory
Like mercy.
- J. Circosta, Tiny Poet, 8.19.2017
Writings on the Wall
