Advocatus diaboli

anonymous

 

Her ultimatum is

1. Isolate from the family I found
          protective older brother with the softest eyes,

2. take a match to my last bridge
          humble beams which lead to former lifelines
          on nights not to be spent alone,

3. repent
          or an infernus eternity.

 

Shuddering, I choose Her

 

strike match to box and turn a newly hardened shoulder

so I won’t see what I’m losing 

          as it warms my skin.

My lumber beams ablaze, the match burns to nothing

the last parts of me with it.

 

My crackling past embosses Her approval.

Love is gratification delayed

my worth, in Her, how well I destroy myself

how well the crown of my head holds the holy sheet of lace

like a veil could soak up each lie I’ve told,

each ingénue I’ve loved.

 

Folks say this is a warning sign

tell you to pack what you can’t afford to lose

flee into silent starlight, the only witnesses,

long gone celestial bodies who will deliver you to safety.

Tell you to kick and bite and scratch 

and thrash.

 

Tell you.

Their words are honest as Judas

a fine display of virtue signaling

as they excuse Her in the next exhale.

She is seated at the right hand of the founding father

a table we are not allowed to sit at

a dinner party invitation never received

a lackluster promise 

that all are welcome.

 

Her scripture lures lost heathens, like I

with newly hardened shoulders, smelling of smoke.

Offers dinner invitations for our compliance.

Like a glitz-eyed fool I accept!—

elated my people are placed

in Her good graces, say grace

with our chairs politely tucked in 

so tight our ribs scrape the altar-cloth.

 

But dinner is not the meal we rsvped to.

The forefathers, saints, look the other way as

Her scalpel an incision cuts, 

then

peels off our skin, 

rubs

salt into our sin, 

saving us.

 

The only audible words 

heard over the red-hot tumult 

are

frag      ment    s of      pray     er         s.

 

The forefathers, saints, too raised

to see the salt-cured human meat we have become.

We choke wet heat, sweaty nausea and

inhumane groaning like a sacred slaughterhouse. 

And no matter what we plead recite or burn

We are the advocatus diaboli,

lambs locusts testaments to Her lies, 

 

Her abuse as an excuse for salvation.

 

No tabernacle teaches this!

What god pleasures themself to self-destruction? 

Not one worth worshipping, not unconditionally,

not a god, but a finger-pointing parasite.

Divinity never belonged to her—

our hearts beat the same blood.

 

If a God will settle our scores, it is a god alone

 

and if he created a world he loved, it is one

where hearts beat as born, 

not bleaching the rainbow monochrome

not settling because annulments are abysmal

not cursing your skin for holding you wrong

not disproving of chosen families when yours hurt you

and not dowsing the bridge that connects you to them.

 

I believe there is such a God out there.

We are not these things we’ve done. I do.

 

I don’t excuse myself, 

push my ribs from the altar-cloth.

The dead stars keep my secrets like foreshadowing.

My family! sprinting, my shoulder resoftens 

yet a stench of singed hair and burnt flesh 

is coming from the other side of the exploding bridge

where they live, my family lived, 

twists my brain like a

in my ash-tray lungs 

tells me 

 

and it’s my fault.

 

the world is still and spinning

as my veins sting, shriek like

my brother’s soft eyes melting out of his skull.

oh! God no I s

I

 

and I see what I’ve lost 

as it warms my skin.