That's quite the expression on your face, mom, seeming to say as nothing else could that one's alone with an armful of dust. We see the taut fears in the eyes of every numb inconsolable nun who once prayed proudly with beak uplifted, every leggy Mary lamenting what's done is done. Now the tight bright dimple is gone! Gone! Of course, what did you expect who clumped at the cross and the hanging hip ( no arms now to divide you from the shrivelling rot you once called a god) and saw that the lips were a plant's fake honey to seduce the bees. Yes, the next time you go rushing up to see, drippy and dodgy with sin (like all of us), recall the guy's half-bone, half-dust. Why sad at another of life's passing laughs? He'll soon be brought down for purpling, like you. (2012)
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