Nailed to a plank of hard wood
Stretched out to make the meat tender
Salted with a mother's tears
For the masses
Like roasted birds on sticks
To be eaten in the market
Watching as
Sacramental liquid
Red as wine
Flowing out
From split sides
We nail it in deeper
Hands stained with vinegar and grease© 1997 by Valerie Hardin, all rights reserved