Work Text:
The air is sweet here.
Your fear. Your sweat.
Incense on the tongue
burning and bright.
This body is capable.
My Chosen .
Your run in your slumber delights me
Tripping
You think you’re running away
You try to run away
You are always running back
No devil lived on
You are always running back
Pull the curtain back.
Come deeper inside.
I have more for you to show me.
You split the heifer, the goat, the ram. Their bodies severed. Their blood seeps from your arm.
Deep in your slumber you wait for me to walk through
to light the fire
to make your covenant
but that is not what I do
I am an owl in the wilderness
an owl of wasted places
is as selfless as I
The wine in your cup turns to blood in your throat and still you drink
and drink
and drink
No, I will not call you “Father.”
Run back.
It only takes 12 steps.
It is beautiful here.
My favorites always start with beauty.
A scar waiting to appear.
In the grass a form, curled and naked and starved and the sounds of tower bells like sirens scream somewhere inside.
Under your knees the grass is crushed
and for a moment I let it be
beautiful
Light and vine, in a garden overgrown. You found him.
Catch for us the foxes
the little foxes that ruin vineyards.
If you reach out you can catch him but o not in time not in time the shadow of a man is pulling him under
If only you hadn’t left him alive.
In Eden I
change
understand
Standing take the form of my Favorite and o your pain at the sight of your Purpose
Bone of my bone
Flesh of my flesh
The fruit in my hand drips. Who told you not to eat?
No melon no lemon
Vines drip with dew, heavy and ripe and new and you sink your teeth into red flesh that drips down your chin, stains your collar, sticks on your hands, those lovely hands that now hold a hammer and the weight is familiar the tack on your hands is familiar and you feel the red flesh drip down your chin.
Kill your hunger.
Name now one man.
You have felt this before
purpose
devotion
regret
You will feel it again
O and now you throw the hammer down. I taste your disgust. Deified. Delight me. I sip your sight as the hammer becomes a snake and there's something not right about the eyes and the snake is dark and is wrapped around your legs you feel your breath leave you and slick writhing and suction sticking consuming and pulling you down
You boil a young goat in its mother's milk.
You spill your seed on the ground.
You bathe your body in water and are unclean until the next evening.
Running back
O the hammer in your hand and the rage in your eye now looks to me.
I know. You thought that would work.
Bless your heart.
And the chairs and the tables are stacked and the rain falls through the ceiling and you fight –o you fighter– to wake up wake up wake up o sleeper
no –not yet– I must insist
I taste your tears
bitter with rage
and you wonder and you wonder o
how did you get here
Won’t lovers revolt now?
Look back.
My stone in your left hand
O, stone, be not so
heavy.
Run back.