Splatters of Poetry

where there is knowledge

For you believed in Nothing
(the delicious ology of nothing)
but you worshipped, all the same
and you bowed, too
in your intellectual way

bowed to your scalpel and your scissors
your cold white philosophies
scratched crude and straight and
chalk-like
against the blackboard, or the sky.

She must be appeased
the Durkheimian Goddess
and to take a Dove by the throat...
well, what else could you do?

the Goddess must have blood.

One look back at the Temple
at your books and paradigms
consecrated things
the letters that made you a priest

"All else will pass away"
you say, with an ignorant sigh
unaware of your flesh on the alter
unaware of your sacrificed heart.

posted by Erin @ 12:12 PM