The Ordeal

Sticks like cardboard in her mouth,
Lips glued tight,
This, a communion wafer,
Body of your Christ rising on her bile,
And the witch rejects

everyone,
They are staring
with wide eyes, shocked,
At such blasphemy

                    *

But what has passed her lips?

And he knows,
He knows what has passed her lips,

Sat in the congregation of hungry animals
desperate for blood to run
from the noose,

His darkness radiating
from under long lashes and dark brows,
Set in a frown,
One hand on a hipflask
the other on another whore’s waist,

And he knows
that she will go to the gallows,

Undigested wafer clinging
to her gowns that
he undid with such ease.

                        *

The first bite of nourishment in weeks,
Rejected,
Just like everything else.

There is no holiness in obsession.