T A K E C A R E O F M E, S A V I O R to not wake them, to walk among them. I will put on the black wool mittens, Savior. To protect from habits, these dark, Christless days. To shuck our lot of corn, Lord. To rise early and never complain. To redeliver false baby, Savior. The nurse jammed me with a finger, Sweet Jesus, she wore a white latex glove. My name written in Psalms, to recite, Savior, to recite my name written in the Psalms. To pray on my knees for the eternal soul of her, my mother, Christ, my sucked, and I, absences of mother, Christ. To tell, Savior, of the cut cut incottoned stain. To red the paddle of flower, Lord, where labia agaped to center the bone, Lord. Shiny purse and funerals, Savior, to never complain of swollen issues, corn shuckings, and such. To will for it is best not to be, Savior, to not be sweetheart again. These are dark, Christless days, Savior, take care of me.
First printed in 3rd Bed, Volume 7: fall/winter