DOLORES' MOTHER TALKS TO
PASTOR SCHUMANN
Phyllis Berman
I threw her out -
and the devil with her
It's his work, you know.
I used to bring her here
to the Lord's house.
Do you remember her?
Only a year or two ago
she sat beside me,
a quiet child
with long blonde hair,
an obedient
daughter
but the devil marked her
for his own.
He gave her hips
to shake when she walked,
breasts to clothe
in clingy steaters,
her mouth
which used to pray,
an excuse for lip-rouge.
How could a decent
man love her?
So the devil took her.
