Someone since has sinned -
Who’s a saint,
Who’s a sane man.
Shouting profanities at his misfortune
Jesting, crossing himself in a bathhouse.
He’s Jewish.
Someone crosses a street
Seriously contemplating sinning
Coming home, shirt thrown sloppy to the side
Hitting a wall with his bare fist, swearing,
Bleeding, with no one to wrap the wound.
Sin will have to wait.
Disease scraping the insides of veins
Erasing prior pale complaints.
Who’s a saint?
Who’s a sinner?
Doesn’t matter now.
Both bleed passion-blood.
Copyright 2011 Liya Khenkin
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