Alchemisland

Her visits are never timely but always serve to enfire me

I’ve just now razed the batch about which her query was raised, so she’s just in time like a musical phrase

Flickering fires licking at uninnocent files

Adjusting them from whole cloth to ash pile

The return of animism and old lives among the rank and file

Upon closed church doors, balaclava’d scribes whose every thought commenced with I

Wrote the first of 99 theses, with what watching priests hoped was red wine

Line upon line, tribes of fighters with divisible Gods, readying the endtimes

Shaped oddly, like lions or spiders, wielding tridents, from sky, sea, and bog

From a protracted pregnant silence a pilum pierce;

Expected sounds follow, like a master by his dog.

Blockbreath pillowsounds, fight drowning pressure, the heart of the ears

The babes as they’re smothered, effacing their years.

Nameless, unmothered, reduced to numbers.