South Africa
Habits black as midnight mass, Rosaries coiled like cartridge brass. Silent prayers on steely lips, Holy water, hollow tips.
Veils flutter in the crosswind’s sigh, Trigger fingers raised on high. Blessed be the ones who shoot— Amen, and lock, and load, and root.
5 (1) “If I become the savage humanity of the primitive I will raise the…
0 (0) The table was modest but sacred. A chipped plate for me, an unbreakable…
5 (1) Cheers to the world, vast and wide,Where dreams take flight and hearts collide.To…
