she's a threadhead


Here’s a dirty little ditty I wrote, which is quite blasphemous. I’m not one for sharing my own poetry, so it’s a treat. The words were circling around my mind until they decided to land. I hope Baby Jesus doesn’t mind. And, please don’t tell my Grandmother.

If my body was a temple you’ve destroyed it
pushed through the gates and overturned whatever was inside
there, you erected a tower – made in your image
in the forest of hair
the Passion arose
and a voice screamed out
names of the men to come.
“Matthew!” “Mark!” “Luke!” “John!” 


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