Wino

Wino takes a coma

like a nun. Rosary hangs

between his nipples. Jesus

holds his waist, hands

guard the beer belly.

 

Entombed walls of prayer,

chants, whispers

to god. Angels ask

the wino to

die, disintegrate

to particles of snow

scattered by wind.

 

A safe death,

away from Satan’s

acid, sinking

into throats of

living corpses.

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