Monday, November 27, 2006

SENTENCE PRAYER

May heathens roast in hell like chickens on a slow cooker,

prays my Sunday School teacher. I see Homer
Lee Masters, splayed on a grill, fingers dangling
over coals. Hear him crying like a shot dog.

Sweet Jesus, cleanse Homer of whiskey and loose women,

she asks at Easter, warning us about the sin
of slow dancing like that hussy Salome.
I see Mama lean on a gentle wind, swaying
in the kitchen to Sinatra’s croon

I’ve got you under my skin, deep in the heart of me.

Nobody’s going to shame my mama
so I beg Sweet Jesus for an angel
to swoop down and carry that teacher away
drop her in a fire with slow-cooking chickens.


Chella Courington
From _Oregon East Magazine_ (vol. 37, 2006)

3 comments:

Madonna and the Whore said...

dearest Chella,
thank you for your words of wisdom and inspiration. :)
Namaste,
Candace

Rebekah said...

Yea! Chella posted again!

Love love love this one. Humor and nostalgia...

Brandon said...

Oh wow! That got me with the first line! This poem is absolutely fabulous! I am so going to bookmark it!