Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Pre-need, Mausoleum

He said, “The upper Lever,”
his arms prayerfully raised.
“Be far from the Devil.”

He said, “The heart level,”
his hand to his breast.
“You deserve no hovel.

He said, “The prayer level.”
he knees on the floor.
“With god, a revival.”

I said, “A pox on a level.
Just burn me real cheap, And make my bones gravel.”

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