Thaumaturgist

By Elvira

Two faces
tempting
with
honeyed words.
The world is His –
given as a consolation
prize
for betraying his master
angelic
aura of kindness

and, the other:
indescribable
neither thorns
nor       tail
are revealed:
antennae – halo
retractable
much as OUR              mask.
Fangs hidden in
a Grin:
fingers taking
us unto his bosom, as an amah
to a babe.
We laugh.
We are deceived by shiny
playthings –                             they are prettier;
easier to
digest              than
cod oil

Blind the eyes.
give me oil
not honey
for paradise
is better than
Hell.

November 2015