Her eyes are ice water and hell.
a devil’s handmaid dressed in her
bleakest Sunday best to pass judgement
as if it was holy sacrament.
A black crow of the highest disorder.
she carry’s her book of gossip straight
to the altar and opens her tongue
to foul every prayer.
It is what it is, but never should be.
A thousand hymns can’t be unsung
or sermons lead when there’s no reason to follow.
Her tar feathers can’t teach anyone how to fly.
The high and mighty who think they do no wrong do the most damage. I love so many lines in this powerful poem my friend. I am so glad you are writing Susie. You have such a wonderful talent for speaking the truth with a poetic pow!
ReplyDeleteShe does seem to be burning a bit in her Sunday best. I wonder if that is holy water and could she take a drink of compassion.
ReplyDeleteA great portrayal of self-righteousness and judgment. Too much of that flying around these days. So well done, Susie. It is always a pleasure to read you.
ReplyDeleteDon't we all know people like that? Wonderful depiction, Susie.
ReplyDeleteHow lovely to see you, read you! She shouts 'Burn baby burn.'
ReplyDeleteLove your poem, Susie, welcome back into writing. She's a character with her own measure of negativity!
ReplyDeleteHank
You have really captured her character in this, Susie!
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