In This Case, The Gods Were Made Of Porcelain... As I passed by the open doorway, I saw a naked pale shivering man, on his knees with his forehead pressed to the cold granite tile floor, knealing as if in prayer before a giant white porcelain bowl, whispering what sounded like a prayer to God. While I turned, trying to decide what to do, he shifted into a fetal position, still shivering, whimpering, Needing something, help, redemption, I did not care. Looking down on him, his head finally nestled on a velvet pillow, Covered by a bright pink Hello Kitty blanket, the shivering had finally stopped, and within mere seconds the snoring begins! . . .a new poem by: terri donaldson 2013
Posted on: Sat, 27 Jul 2013 18:46:03 +0000
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