how vaguely we eschew complicity with you,
it’s always run-arounds, excuses
and words we bind to nooses
just to sullenly let swing
the best of arbitrary things,
like, do we care about the poor?
oh yes, but we support the king.
and we’re starving for the slaughter.
a man gives up his daughter
and the walls that keep us safe aren’t saving anyone.
didn’t you say
to risk everything?
and we’re left dieting for more
and then we’re burning on the tor
that flanks an emperor’s affair.
we’ve hardly sacrificed before
so in manic heavenward stare
let the confession from our lungs
that as our bodies torch the air
to the fanfare and the drums,
amid drunken wild acclaim,
we have the urge to scream your name.
and without hesitance or shame
affirm our place among the burning.
and our bodies break, confirming
our inability to remain
without an object for our yearning.
our inability, our inability.
“oh god, accept our spirits
into your holy presence”