SWEARING AT COFFIN'S

homeless thoughts carried home on the used crucifix
the white space rots within its spinning gravity
marble clean disinfected kisses
single standard sized rose -cut and red against 
the washed scenery
 
  injected red washed vases
 words slip in parades-sipped conversations
repair the dripping wallpaper
guilty fields of combed careful prescriptions
 
sober-faced churches preaching locked doors
while drunks line up for Christ blood
and eager clawing rooftops collapse 
when the sainted applause becomes the echo
 
went outside and buried my legs up to the knees
forced my head to stay cold 
forced my growing heart to watch pinball stars heckle the shadow I knitted from the casting light
time for another casket
another thread of touch
after all
what's not to enjoy