Ash and Dust - To the Westboro Baptist Church
Their tongues are hurting me.
We levitate at dawn
and return to the ground at night.
Dirt and silk. Silk lasts three generations,
dirt is forever. My bones burn under my skin,
but my flesh is asleep, like a rosebud, a house
to live up to the standards of the gods.
—I didn’t come here to be illumined.
—I saw fanaticism sheltering them in a blizzard of prayers.
Their mother is a cow.
Look at the cow, your second mother!
Isn’t it a delight to gaze inside a mirror?
Ash and dust.
It could happen anywhere.
Hill is not the same as jungle,
or wild the same as mind.
Your shadows cuddle
on horizontal time to extol calamity.
Marble and horoscope,
a sign for your empty mouths.
Is this where you consult the future,
the transformation of the children,
the hidden flower of sin?