This Isn’t a Ritual

She reads Moses and says her love is crucified.
— Samuel Beckett (Samuel Beckett, “Whoroscope,” Stanza 12, Line 2 (Line 69 overall), in “Appendix” of The Collected Poems of Samuel Beckett: A critical edition edited by Seán Lawlor and John Pilling, published at New York by Grove Press in 2014; page 243.)

                         i.

A tongue sent on a perilous errand ends
each kiss with a bite, exhausting

knots of irony unburnish the blurring unfurling of
future-proofed pearls, kings buried under waterfalls,

waiting to become gods, awaken as flawed angels
faith accosts and appalls, flowering in

and out of bed, seven-headed and libidinal, emerge
purged as wormwooded West End Girls

                         ii.

at World’s Edge, deadended in this perpetual pit
of distress attesting Antarctica is the

underworld of the planet, hauling weapons-grade religious relics,
we are the gods our polluted

love of loss sculpted from the accident of
not knowing our Selves carved into

us more than once, no reason, just because,
an aching sustainable level of ancient

                         iii.

heartbreak watering my dead orchids with pain soluble
in art, Repeating (y)our Self like

a Winchester Rifle under a mirrored ceiling, the
sacrifice at the orchard’s core implores

us at once to face this faithlessness unaided,
to grip its knife by the

serrated edge, hewn in the dark nude of
steepled fingers charisma ensues, consumes with

                         iv.

slant kindness an inching vision of what embrace
undoes, incites in an instant an

uncoupling, unwanting the once-was to room in its
emptied tomb two truths thumbs never

touch, not when fingers do their lingering best
to extinguish rude libidos, as fists

crush throats before kisses can be swallowed below
lips death touches as though, punishes

                         v.

as if, he were allowed to strangle from
us his gift, the unpunished vice

is getting away with discovering a new one,
in a fit of furious congress,

mercantile love goes on to get off killing
itself, purchases freedom the way any

suicide does, touching on something else unwritten, trickling
out of existence an echo wept

                         vi.

into a glass cloud erases, tells through television
skin bruises glisten, the hue of

freezer burn, that what truth rots beneath returns,
it’s murder in absentia, burning pictures

of her on this altar, desire’s our hunger’s
daughter called here where we meet

in the overwhelm, Ishtar’s wished-for fathers darkening temple
thresholds, when jerking off feels like

                         vii.

eating fast food, you move in the gloom
like a white flower surrounded by

flesh and led to where what I find
beautiful offends almost accidentally, the way

atheists may savour in the insult of an
unbeliever’s assault on the name of

another’s pissed-on saviour, confessional as an understall flamer
playing limbo thrusting deeper beneath a

                         viii.

toilet paper dispenser, piano fingering some imagined stud,
in not out of a rut

then out of it, in pursuit of love’s
antithesis, that ship sailed and sank

ages ago, the way shadows give breath to
statues, ritual sin, you don’t believe

but do you understand? a heart’s assault a
result every time romance’s artlessly offensive.

Jono Borden

Jono Borden is a Canadian poet, novelist, lyricist, screenwriter, and filmmaker known for transgressive lyricism, occult symbolism, gothic æsthetics, dark eroticism, and experimental narrative forms.

https://jonoborden.com
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