The Sound of Running Water

Santa Muerte has a wedding dress
& a (snap) bridle gift register she knows
what she wants. Paratroopers or dancers
move into hard light.
Be careful of what you ignite
red candles
for the love we have fled, bone for peace
an explosive mix, we
wearing white & tattoos.

The new faith in town,
her shrine is like a clubbed club scene
in a low budget movie. But…wow…
guitar, tin cans
her gown wraps the slums & breeds up energy.

Our Lady of the Ambulance
fringe spirit
dope & roses
rise, always rise
to the radiance of dismay.
Smiling we kneel by her & pick our ending, pick
your pockets she understands but
is jealous.

Buckle up the books,
nacreous tincture of moan her
nest is a compost of silver.
La Niña Blanca guards, then eats us.
We are handy, maybe
candy under brittle but regenerating teeth.

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