Nails

The shroud of Turin is now your reflection in a computer screen
And the word "computer" is now the reflection
of the most unpoetic scenario
One that unfolds with the ugliness of the word “electronic”
One that is the bastard heroin addicted stepchild
of the word electricity
Borrowing your instincts

 Lightning comes to mind
Straight up the spine
And rocket into the sky
And it bursts in purple streaks in the darkest midnight
And and and
It crashes somewhere near a foot
And that is when you point down
Because your toenails are painted the same color
That is something to smile for
That is something to embrace about
Something to fall in love over
So over the computer we write
Little messages
Then marry
And never write those Jesus Christ words in our reflections ever again
Because we only want trees and dirt now
Grass and clotheslines
Rivers and wet rocks
 And a pet pig
We are electrocuted with one million volts of naked night
 And I still love your toenails