First, I was on the litter,
as rustics carried me ever closer to you;
those demonic angel masks,
bellowing eyebrows,
and flowing fingers.
They danced, and all I saw was color,
color to the beat of the drums,
against the beads of your constellation.
I saw you, Taurus, dios, flood,
and they brought me ever closer
to your sinister stampede
atop the mountains.
Now, they are tying my hands
with rough hemp and
loosening my hair which
snaps in the wind,
a forest of morse code.
The virgins remove my
white, ashy, gauze
robe so you may
see my silhouette
against the moon.
Their throats are slit and
their blood mingles with the platters
of grain and berries;
those rich red berries saturated in
delicious holy blood.
The drums stop for the wind,
and all I see are frightened faces
melting into one another;
cowards! They run, fast,
back down the mountain,
and leave me here to wait for you.
I watch the wind call your name,
I am as tall as all your trees,
I am dark and powerful,
I am writhing on this splintered pile,
I can hear you coming.
Do you know why they sacrifice
Because I could
destroy you.
And there you are, galloping wildly
through your spring streams;
your face is life itself,
your hair is scorpions,
your blessed hands untie me and
I don’t care where we are going
or what you will do to me,
just do it, do it, go, faster
and never