“A baby was born
Last night
In soot and grit,
broken glass.”
“Christmas in the Alley”

by Jeff Howe

She is a teen. She hates her guts
For carrying God and growing jut.
She’s Mary. You might know her. Do you?
And semiconscious, half alive
The girl keeps secrets to survive
In her maternal strife is Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.

Hotel. A burrow number “Four”,
A wolfram candle’s turned to pour
Internal light, it might subdue you.
The tremolo of window’s shut,
Confession groans in reeky smut
Composing notes for tender Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.

As touched with pencil, slightly glazed
The contours thicken baby face
And spasms are painting pain, a new “you”.
Oh paradise, the opened cut,
How warm and tearful could be blood
When Heaven’s washed away with Hallelujah?
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.

A void. The heart, as cut-through seam,
Which runs apart with thoughts to gleam
When there’s nothing left to cure you.
While window licks nocturnal tar
The brightness lives. It is a star,
The little star in edgeless Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.

She waddles out with swaddled…blessed
But holds the key, her tongue, and breath.
A dumpster is your crib, oh new “you”.
And Mary swings, tears cellophane
In mindless state and wordless pain.
Oh God, forgive her madness, Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.

A breath to hold, a plastic womb,
Three rats, as kings, as I assume,
Adore their chance to feel the true “you”.
Instead of angels coldness nips,
The silence’s seen through snow and lips.
It’s Christmas time. Forgive me. Hallelujah!
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.
Hallelujah.

June 17, 2010

Дещо вільний переклад ось цього:
http://maysterni.com/publication.php?id=49459