|a pot of gold
By blogetry on 10/31/2007
She was a few pay-days under forty when he died,
Victim of a fall that broke his spine;
He was the sole bread-winner and father of nine...
She seemed stuck in a carousel of pregnancy,
Pushing babies with canine frequency,
Pausing only to tie a nuptial knot,
To purge a union of sin and lust
That twinged her Catholic conscience with guilt,
And smeared her with a layer of filth,
Prompting parents pious to the core
To lambaste her as a shameless whore,
Oblivious to their own sordid fornication,
Mystically cleansed by God's grace and salvation;
This God who silenced their daughter's groom,
And sent her screaming to her room,
A widow with no job or skills,
A mother with nine fatherless kids
And nary a penny from his will,
Only a mountain of overdue bills...
She vowed to knock on every door
Seeking some means to feed her poor
But most doors slammed into her face
Leaving her battered and disgraced;
That's when a wealthy married man
Extended her a helping hand...
A sleazy tale would soon unfold...
She sold her flesh for a pot of gold...
James G Paul Sr
© By blogetry On 10/31/2007 8:00:20 AM