I get pliers
climb to the crucifix
on a wobbly
chair
pull out
the nails
one by one
(real little nails for his little hands)
I tell him
he is free now
flee...fly
go to
Heaven
But Christ
He just lay there
in an agony
not knowing
which way was Heaven
...any more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem