wiggling your hips


Sculpture, detail, Mapua, April 2018, canon, ©Sylvie GTime hang heavy on your hands

but your doubts are muche slower

to answer for their crimes.

The ready-made questions at

the microphone of the infidels

are asked through  glass

stained with bitterness.

And you run to lose your breath

or smother the rancour or

be dragged in a pond of remorse

while wiggling your hips

and singing loudly.

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