Juniper Prayer Beads
Inhale its smell, relax, remember me said
my friend pushing the prayer beads into my hand
Bringing it to my nose is one moment’s journey
How generous is the Juniper tree’s seed
Like the granulated version of red wine
bright and full-bodied from inside
Through my fingers as it is pouring
it leaves its beautiful scent behind
This is the scent of an ancient church
A kind of censer/incense-burner
Two Jesuit priests appear as I caress the beads
Rose buds glass vase, Mother Mary’s altar
angel trinkets, then blood a lot of blood
because the priests are killed with care in my country
The killer would say “he made an immoral proposal”
He wasn’t yet eighteen
as I grow a few years in one day
How hard/firm is the Juniper tree’s seed
Like the granulated version of pouring blood
lukewarm gutter lukewarm gutter
as it is pouring through my fingers
I was blacking out/I was more and more staggering
They always make you walk anyway
always towards a place you cannot reach
to an out-of-range destination
What about afterwards well there is no afterwards
afterwards is a graveless death
behind a truck or on a passenger boat
stacked like goods piled up on top of each other
like migrants
dying the oldest death like it is a new life
What about afterwards well there is no afterwards
Aftewards are statistics afterwards is breaking news
State fatalities don’t fit into the prayer beads