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The Reverend John DeLore



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The Reverend John DeLore

Our Troubles Again

The sun lights the backs of the buildings, and the girls change to go out on the town. I dress the mirror to flatter my fears, and I shoot myself with the first round. I take pills to pardon my enemies. I take powders to be with my friends. And I tell my heart to do everything
In its power to resist. To resist.

I was baptized in a bottle of chlorine. I was communed on a white wonder bread. And I will marry on wines wet with cyanide. I will be buried in a box wrought with lead. So lament to me the family's ignominies. Tell me all about the lengths we are led. We the most pious of living room innocents, we were just silently nodding our heads. Nodding our heads.

God says the working man is saved from the fire. Says the pirate has no place in heaven. But that doesn't end well for the arsenal of which God is so beloved. And the sun sinks back behind the buildings
as the medicines start to kick in. Don't tell the whores or the spies that my countrymen have forgotten our troubles again. Our troubles again