Wednesday, February 14, 2007

The Roofer

thrashing branches shriek streaking
into the grey stone stormy sky
rain crashes into the wet
earth foaming in galleys like rabid dogs

high above the ground on a roof
made of shiney silver tin
the Roofer raises a hammer
into the furious and ferocious wind

Heavens rumble and growl
threatening the horizon with
jagged clouds and streaks
of sharp white fire

One nail for a nickel
and children to be fed
One nail for a nickel
and then struck dead

Years after the rain
when above the bed it's dark
footsteps sound from the ceiling
and loud beating of your heart

through the corner of your eye
a figure on the veranda
raises his spectral hammer to the sky
and fire eyes stare straight
as you die

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