Sunday, March 30


Rattle cup, spill the bones.
Ribs read--digits deciphered. 
 Ossified missives in the living’s leftovers.

Who’s to blame for temptation tasted?

Web of wasted want, plaiting
words in dusty primers, dark closets,
lost battles.

Joshua, don’t damn the demand--what was taken
touches superstition, speaks to suspicion, trembles stones
thrown for the cleromants.

The righteous practice idolatry behind clever curtains.
Nevermind the others; gods choose those
who choose themselves.

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