By Mike O’Connell
she wore a jump suit
with moving flames
adorning fire rising to her
graying hair
tall folded over
implying smoke
moving spinning
a human tornado
causing seizures
to the faint of heart
crane and harness
lift her over crowds of
worshipers bowing
murmering cowering
lest she strike them down
steal their life force
leaving them empty
harvested wandering
in mortal fogs
seeking guidance
fearing death as if it
were an unnatural state
worrying about the
fate of their souls
in manufactured eternities
that will only flourish
until the last breath taken
and her visage vanishes
and they are truly alone
wading through ashes
of the former faithful
while she squanders
their lives tax free


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