chapels collapse under the
scrutiny of indifferent eyes
the final stands in a flake of
bleeding red paint and flaming ash
pulverize the holy book, maria!
let it turn into charred fine wine
that i can lick off my rosy fingers.
teeth piece into skin as i am hoisted
by your cinnamon hands onto the
wooden cross as tongues clash in a
final goodbye i know is not for me
your lips taste of belladonna and
starved bane; two plump cloves
stained with scorched cherries
trickle down my collarbone as
romeo's dagger is plunged into the
canvas of my ichor-sucking chest
young man, don't you know that
devils cannot die with such ease?
ivory flesh turns violent carmine
with the flick of a finger
and the spurt of a jugular vein
you were a beautiful once—my
beautiful;
i miss the bambi eyes and delicious smiles
that glanced up from between my thighs
during the bitter cold of fall
but boys like you must burn, burn, burn
because demon girls like me,
(wicked, seductive vixens)
are not meant to start exorcisms,
we are born to finish them.
