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by jennie gillette

Burnt offerings of grilled cheese sandwiches Lay in his disarrayed bed. A half smoked cigarette smolders Between the sheets.

His gin soaked Virgin Mary stands weeping. Ragged and half-beaten, Coy eyes look out over a field of a thousand bruises. Staggering towards the end as Glasses of wine with lip stained rims Tumble across her curvy frame.

Praying to a god that will not listen She shrouds herself in modest wear Of Egyptian cotton and high thread count. Eyes clench tight against the image Of him, of her.

He likes the way a chesty girl butters his bread.