For Nine Days Does the Anvil Fall: Three

Repeating the same mantra
in a single sigh, beneath
eaves extinguished light ignites
within vaults cathedral ribs

divide as dice do lots, bones
with marrow of stone from palms
of spread fingers, leafing carved
scrolls, casting cold shadows dripped

as they rise over sombre
nobles interred below, this
eldritch passage said, timbre
repeated, arousing knights

          ad nauseam, no doubt’s pause
          stalling them, chant echoes rites.


By strange impedimenta
ever again as in life
tonight once more burdened, knives
and chalices behind ripped

curtains await performance,
by oaths withdrawn, undaunted
to recourse of swords or stirred
when working for monoliths

this witchery of words, cauls
as veils from faces worn soft,
by mouthed passages torn off
turn heavenward to recite

          warnings of phenomena
          this invites and prophesies.