BY NICK MULGREW
in sino-nasal cancer:
fraternal septum void,
resonant hall of bone.
line those polyps again:
give me a zipper spine of scar;
wash those recurring
terrors of sawteeth and resin.
in demons still. catholic
hearts slow in unction,
forked women fear: in gardens
verdant in KwaZulu; in gardens
overgrown with delicious monsters and
earth: red, sanguine and ferrous with
petrichor; where the earth reeks of blood.
mother says this
is knowledge of the devil.
she says it in Glenwood in the church,
in its eternal facebrick and chapel
honeycomb; the stainglass, muggy with
air and alabaster; in which god – you
said – god was not the light:
god was the thing, you said
that was salvation, not deliverance;
no, you said, that wasn’t it
all of this is real, you said.
this air resounds with the chorus of hell.