Four Powers

                    i. Over Nature

Particles of dust
we dissolve into
atoms, throwing off

          skeletons of vague
          concerns laid on us
          like uncles’ tongues by

thieves, wonder-working
presbyters, hungry
perverts, wolves in priests’

          clothing, repressed fiends
          Christ himself wouldn’t
          trust, lickers of flames

whose palms fall from necks
of bottles to crawl
guest room walls with hands

          whose silent climax
          Nosferatu’s own
          shadow contends with

struggling to battle
under a hostel
cot’s covers, over

                    ii. Over Demons

briefs, to cop a feel
of what dusky crop
youth’s cult keeps concealed

          raptures of knuckles
          meet fingers beneath
          bowls impossible

to stop from spilling
secret hymns only
night itself sings when

          prophets hum into
          virgins’ hearts twisted
          melodies played by

crookèd monks praying
vespers fought over
fists kissing lips for

          mouthfuls of better
          parts, skulls taking turns
          filling up goblets

with thoughts mocking god
feeling up our shirts
without thinking first

                    iii. Over Death

the same thirst shaking
from skirts what berries
our sisters buried

          in bushes those birds
          burst, smiling off their
          worry, fangs claiming

‘it’s supposed to hurt…’
sunburns of venom
laid on us at night

          like uncles’ tongues, flames
          of palms fallen past
          their prime under guest

room covers onto
ribs, into beds love’s
offer never claimed

          fathers and mothers
          acting in its name
          could keep clean or safe

from others whose pain
shame’s whispered taste sparked
needles to sting with

                    iv. Over Blood

stench of ink no one’s
nose can tolerate
incense grieving for

          us, breathing against
          saints’ intercessions
          to bring about world’s

end, suns bottoming
but not out of want
just because the one

          we believed heaven
          sent was in need, in
          heat when he came down

and came on faces
filaments faced with
fading away begged

          him to spray what makes
          giving in getting
          it, changing fate by

tempting creators
who claim we take our
chances where we lay.