Sicilian Wit

I blame Sophia.
If Dorothy was quick
her mother was prescient,
only waiting long enough to bind
her barb in space and time,
and so affirm causality.

After a lifetime
mainlining marathon reruns
her spirit rides my soul,
goading me with a beaded purse while
sotto-voccing snide rejoinders
into the minutest caesura of life.

She will not be silenced.


this pillar of faith, loitering
in the House of God turns in his pew
to dismiss these lawless thugs

this servant of community, rotating
my tires warns of their
parasitism and lack of insurance

this bumper of a judge-not worshiper, proclaiming
‘BAN THEM’ throughout the church parking lot
but never, no never, our guns

I am silenced.

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