pleural

god speaks in wary sons
and daughters, skin pledged
to altar bite and eternal
rip.

slip your tongue
quick out and in,
don't let the sin follow you.
prime the response
of the nephilim.

couldn't have kept the hem
high as the hymns would like;
poetry starts at the knee
and fucks upward.

jowls to the brim
puckered, curse words
running like effusion
from the side.

you may howl at the demons
but you're found
teeth to teeth with them,
dripping.