in the mountain country,

butterfly nymphs cloak the

stone madonna’s feet,

she kisses the air,

lip syncing holy syllables

to the one True God

and for reasons unexplained.  .  .  

she feels motivated to protect

the bones of lost children

from stray dogs, kidnappers and

a few parish priests

who must first shop for the perfect hat

before even considering the final rites--

everyone knows he must look the part,

and impress the surviving flock,
he must show no signs of weakness or grief—
and this very reason is why

madonna cries Abba Father.  .  .

humanity strewn in the valley
suffers from guilty liplock
while ancient rock cries out

in mortal pain.

© 2005 cynth’ya lewis reed

All rights reserved.