Spirits Distilled

Rooted and Broken

33 Rooted and Broken My bones are as stiff as the severed Necks of fowl that hang behind both ears, Their beaks angled towards dirt and stone, So close I can hear the beat of slow blood Metronoming into dry world, So close I want to drink What my hands have gathered From this low-country priestess Who walks with a slight left limp, barefoot Leaving earth smooth and unbalanced. She has spoken In the tongue of ancient deities As sandalwood burned and myth chanted Over a carved wooden bowl Now steadied between my fingers. To this altar, this temple of thatched reprieve I have come for removal, For the splendor of gods, The requisite dose Of powdered liquid heart. Take, and drink, Long Woman says And into the bowl I stare With eyes yellowed, the gaze Of a man who has been rooted By some strange mix of voices, Secular concoctions of greed and tarot hair. Take, and drink, Long Woman says 34 And into the bowl my tongue laps Like skeletal kittens The steaming burgundy fluid. From the hills, a cock crows thrice. Five serpents coil around aching ankles, And my head jerks back, As if waiting For evening’s cold embrace, The first drops of rain in my mouth, Like forgiveness, unrequited And broken into fits of shaking screams. ...