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Bound By Blood

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Published: January 8, 2008
Bound by Blood

Ave Maria, Ave, Ave, pray for us, Mary, ohhh pray.
She pleads to painted porcelain, fat fingers embracing
each other. Her unmarried son’s voice fades. Mom,
we’re having a baby.
Thirty Hail Mary’s: futile—

like the day her sister called, giddy almost to tears
with news: Ellen, I’m getting remarried. She cried
that day, too, photocopying pages from Principles

of Canonical Law,
dictating Jesus’ insistence that she
boycott her only sister smiling in the ivory gown nearly
destroyed by a careless daughter. Seven years later,

the only reminder of her niece’s inattention: shadows
in a photograph; but her son’s consequence lies
pillowed in her arms. Ave Maria, pray for us
sinners now and in the hour of our death.
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Dear Parents:
Strike the soft skin of your children; leave marks.    Go on: show them how hard they must become       to be like you. Mold them to be mindless: coach them to react    with fists; make them believe that words have       little worth. Shape them into an almighty monster: modern man. Destroy their purity and imagination by damning them    with absurd words of a god who previous men       imagined. Teach children to follow a leader, and to not ever    break the ci
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Maria flat across the back seat -  half full needle of something rides shotgun my plateless Dodge shakes through San Fran near dusk, I can see away the building - the white neon - the cross, of all the miracles we might make it reach back two fingers to her neck feel a pulse got it Van Ness a steel snake - a stigmata of coke cans - pepper gutters, the leaving sky clutches a final urgent burn - my ribs a snapping cage for a demon trapped heart pounding pounding. Maria always in my tilted rear-view eyes rolling back hold on baby, hold on back to road, banging the wheel radio barks me through the sharp theatre of shadows that spring
© 2008 - 2019 tragiccomedy
Ohh family drama. Spring 07 portfolio
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S
Snowstorm
The children misheard you. They broke open the jar looking for petals and found only flours. The dust is everywhere, settling everywhere, on the refrigerator and the stove, on the startled mother cat yowling her pawprints through the snowy floor, on her sharp-eared kittens prancing in the clouds. The three-year old is screaming. He has cut his finger on the glass, there are red streaks in the snow, and his white-faced brother stares up at you with a look commonly reserved for the confused and the betrayed.
D
Dear Parents:
Strike the soft skin of your children; leave marks.    Go on: show them how hard they must become       to be like you. Mold them to be mindless: coach them to react    with fists; make them believe that words have       little worth. Shape them into an almighty monster: modern man. Destroy their purity and imagination by damning them    with absurd words of a god who previous men       imagined. Teach children to follow a leader, and to not ever    break the ci
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O.D
Maria flat across the back seat -  half full needle of something rides shotgun my plateless Dodge shakes through San Fran near dusk, I can see away the building - the white neon - the cross, of all the miracles we might make it reach back two fingers to her neck feel a pulse got it Van Ness a steel snake - a stigmata of coke cans - pepper gutters, the leaving sky clutches a final urgent burn - my ribs a snapping cage for a demon trapped heart pounding pounding. Maria always in my tilted rear-view eyes rolling back hold on baby, hold on back to road, banging the wheel radio barks me through the sharp theatre of shadows that spring
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