Peshel

by Elvira

As Venus melts

                                Like Rubies into Helio’s eyes,

                Aves      trumpet

                                                Apocalyptic anticipations.

On sullied terra,

The Samuel’s voices

                                Speak with serpent’s tongues

And Peshel’s air

Though lucid,

                                Sounds                 like

Weird sisters chanting:

                “Death by man no woman born”

“However, much we

                                Purge    ourselves,

By lamb                                by bull   by dove,

The blood of sacraments still

                                Smears;

No cistern on Jehovah’s sphere

Can this stain     cleanse;”

So, we mark another year,

And                        scourge                                ourselves,

While                    uncircumcised                   lips

                                Blame   Abrams

Seed

                                We’re                   all of

Adam                    spring

No holy oil           can shine

Tarnished flesh,

As soul                  scream

‘til fire                   scorches                             

                                                                Mortal

                                                                                                skin

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