Hortensia AndersØn
     
     
      mass 
             
      stranger, plague, fall - 
      I find you 
      in all of it - 
      forgetting words, the poison 
      has already done it's work 
      and a fine piece it is - 

      It's noon - 
      there is a mass being said 
      for you, your soul, 
      the walking dead. 

      The priest intones 
      his voice soaks into 
      the crucifix 
      like blood. 

      Ever pious 
      in the sea of death 
      he prays over 
      day and night, 
      he will forget you. 

      -ANDERSON 97

     © 1997 Kimberly Anderson