the first night

With heavily stilled fingers, a stream of fragrance and light is invoked in this room. My flesh, coated with pitch and viral repulsiveness is sighing; weary after a day at the circus; listening to clowns in white gowns play mathematician; trying to find the combination of three numbers to be branded on my flesh. Breathe.

I call upon the name of the Father, the blessed Son and Mother; the Beloved Apostle, and the Protomartyr, whose story has rested on my mind heavily of late. The spirits of the holy Little Bear and her beheaded ladies, all five-hundred fifty score, are already in my in my mind, singing hymns in pure harmony while tidying the mess of scattered thoughts; little Post-Its now to be discarded, because this tree will not fruit again, only wilt.

I would sell my soul to melancholy, and let the Fallen Angel reign; but all of Heaven and the most precious of the world refuse; drawing crosses of me; standing me upright. I would set these moving lungs in a coffin, but none would hammer in the nails.

This coal heart shall change to diamond, with the promise of Jerusalem, brilliant and reborn. But even the caterpillar requires a moment to accept his new wings.

Tonight, every last cell of my being shall deprive itself of liquid, watering the pillows that support this burning head.

With time and grace, I shall smile again; Home beckons.