40 Lashes
What if lighting were red and the sky the
purest white........he thought.
He was used by the pace of life.....the pace of NOTHING
He stared at his hands...the cuts over the knuckles,
Slices over the palms.
His hands looked like the back of a man
who received 40 lashes across his back
from a condemned ship sailing the High seas.
Today it was all about pain and the release
of being the one reliable witness to this penance.
Copyright © Frank Penicaro | Year Posted 2011
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