The Priest fell broken from the sky
Blood still fresh on his lips
Shadows of a ruined city catch him.
Disciples gather,
Gathering, lift him high.
His eyes, flutter, reflect the allAbove
Drained of sustenance, dust sheets draped
A white room in which he waits,
Smiling through the worldWindow sun.
Sheets give way to the fatherSon,
Lifting robes on a deep wound,
Beckoning the crawling brokenPriest
Tongue flickering into the open abyss,
Face become lost to shadow.
And finds the comfort of a wall
Disciples gathering, offering:
A womanGirl pooling light
Beneath her knees,
Face turned up
She is a church, ashen, wasting
The Family gathering, offering:
Crucifix, stain glass, confessional
She whispers silentSilence on her lips
Finds herself in his mind
Dying with her family gathered
His impotence searching her form
Her shape beneath the coveringCovers
Imagines:
The room rearranged, body shifting
Shifting the weight to open her
Nightdress falling in folds
Folds of her opening before his lips
Lips that open and devour
Her shape beneath the covering covers
Imagines:
The room rearranged, body shifting
Shifting the weight to open her
Spreading to open
Open his sighs and screams
Screams hidden, hands over her face
And he is poised between
As her dying moves her
And the foldsUnfolding
Onto shadows of her body
He is falling
Against the comforting wall
Her face turned up to him
herSmile with hisSmile
joining together…
They have crucified him. Nailed him to the wall. He only now notices. At the
realization, a Disciple steps quickly, taking a knife from beneath his robe and cuts.
Quickly, efficiently. Opening a deep wound for her lips. She drinks from the
brokenPriest and her tongue teases the lips of his wound. Blood fresh on her lips.
Her faces dissolve into shadow
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