The Priest in the confessional fell ill with the bite when they cornered him there. Unaware really, the Priest took it as a confession and turned it into Unction.
They fell on him from the basement, migrant and poor, always the poor, the first to go, to come, cross over.
Christ was poor on the cross, resurrected. Church bells, happy circumstance.
Falling into the arms, mercy, always falling into the arms.
The Priest took the confession, gave a finger, some meat around the collar bone. Prescribed a rosary of teeth, pearly absolution, went out to do some missionary work.
Monday, November 14, 2005
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
oh ho! think yer the hot shit, eh? buncha posts and two pictures just you wait, mr snodgrass.
Post a Comment