FETUSES

All those dead children falling to the sea
no, they are not children
they're men
young men
...and so beautiful
their faces disfigured
their clothes torn
their members covered
with pieces of bloody flesh
bruised arms
legs
shoulders
scrubbed once and once again
against a sandpaper wall

They've knocked so often against themselves
that they look like the corpses of solitary kids
wasted fetuses
madonnas without a church

They have masturbated so often in front of the mirror
that they've mistaken desire for satisfaction
orgasm for despair
pride for redemption

They have sinned exceedingly... by omission
they have thought and acted like angels
but no one can keep on floating for so long
without a pair of wings

Their ears burnt
their eyes full of vice
and fear
they put out cigarette ends through the arses of their fellow men
 

Ernesto Sarezale, 2000-2004
www.sarezale.com
sarezale(at)yahoo.com