By: Linda M. Crate

you are as sour as a blue berry
noxious as smog
ruder than an adder’s sting or wasp’s bite
sharper than the thickest
blade of obsidian night cutting
into the heart of day
yet you are sweeter than cherries
compassionate as dogs
loving as kittens
adorable as a chipmunk –
yet you are an egregious character flaw
a liar, a cheater, and virginity thief
professing the “word of God”
maybe you were right
when you told me that you’re the
preacher from The Grapes of Wrath;
you act as if you’re a walking moral compass,
but yours have been rotted
into the dust from whence you came –
one day you will be cut
as hard as me on the edge of lust’s
blade bleeding love
for someone
that won’t acknowledge you;
i thought you truly cared that you were
different, but you’re worse than heathens.