locked inside lady wisdom’s vault


whoa, burro, whoa

this is no ordinary house

it’s a temple

i wonder

if there be a fee to enter



the door slams shut behind me

& locks

freedom castaway

i seem to be

in a spiritual vault of strange design

wonderment in every direction

high windows statues stars

a galaxy o’ slavery to She

it spins around me

in a dog bone fetching manner, i gaze

i collapse

on bruised elbows

make it to the communion rail

stagger to my knees & pray, smiling

& wagging my tail


Sophia !



copyright clyde collins 2019


About Rawclyde!

I have employed a few pen names throughout the years. Rawclyde with an exclamation mark (!) is the one too sticky to go away...
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