MAUDLIN MAWS▪︎Poetry (3)

3. The old boy's dead

Saints have come to know hell
The sin of love carmine on the their mouths
The smell of herbs ragged on their breaths
Sage volatile marks of endeavour overlaying their lips
They are blessed
Purged from centuries of misery
Tending to their old patriarch

Plucked the paper wings are
Yet we're drinking wine on the shores of eventides
Yearning for a miracle
Asking for a chance before death arrives
Come to them deities with their givings
Their potent forgiveness
Gleaming skin
Grateful for surviving the fall nesting in our arms
Saints we were
Saviors of angels we rise
Classical in the sense of art
Their meandering hair falls on their backs the way holy rivers flow
Their flesh unhumane running on lucid dreams and roseate fantasies
Feeding a starvation we once pledged to lock away
Desiring the forbidden apple
Their heart the most aggravating part

We withered
Saffron grains of sand and saline girls coming from the heavens 
Griping our souls with a word
Sinner you're saved, forgiven
So come let us treat your forebearing
Open hell's gates to nirvana

8 July 2022