Courir Goddess w. Mudbug Camio

Oh cloven goddess, that overseer Mother
of the early morning harvest
this last Tuesday of our great sinning
this last threshold before, tomorrow, His
doleful Holy Ghost
   smears that shit o'er our brow
coffee around the copier
mudden'd with the awkward mark of the wrong beast

bare breasted and
bejeweled in the white husks of mudbug skeletons
lady in dawn's golden purple
shimmering in trinkets and shells
baubles in freckles' company on your chest
red feathers and fringe wearing your adoration
leather scar comets across a grey morning
the killing field crushed crawfish castles
your furry legs
sweaten'd armpits
clavicles tied to the ceiling with silly string
a marionette in a cowboy hat a cape a belly
press your wet mound to my cheek
from a buttress of black mud
my queen in a killer's mask
growling commands
heavy knotted braid swinging with
   a wrecking ball's weight
your french grin
your perfect red lips
forgive me
wild for the guinea from the farmer thrown

baptize me in that cheap whiskey at your belt
that plastic flask of poison'd holy water
coughing hymns and
   Our Fathers in the grass
on my red knees begging
bleeding
penance in the graveyard o'er his concrete casket
breathing heavy behind my fake face
the tendrils of our violence intermingle like
   winter vines in the chain link
french hens
on a headstone the miniature American flag
   waving like it's on the Moon.

TA