Behold, I give unto you power to tread on serpents and scorpions, and over all the power of the enemy: and nothing shall by any means hurt you. (Luke 10:19)
do not worship snakes.
You hold out my tongue
and feed me strychnine from a dropper
in an attempt to remove
my muscles from my flesh.
Nothing shall by any means
hurt you. I try to latch onto scripture
with my two thick teeth,
inject it with a precious venom.
You try to teach me God’s language
with your tongue, but I am
more interested in what comes after
my body, the possibility
of life without blood,
inside the echoing toll of a bell.
For now, you reach inside
and fill your hands with sin,
quick devil curse of the Pentecost.
You have few words but prayer for the body.
We dance on our hems for hours
until holiness intervenes.