Wednesday, April 8, 2015


One of the perquisites of being a priest
Of Cardea, goddess of door hinges,
Is that she makes house calls. Spend years
Leaning to pronounce Huitzilopochtli
And sacrifice thousands of prisoners
With your Aztec flint knife until your wrist aches
And your dreams are filled with beating hearts;
The Sun will not even remember your name.
Serve Cardea and when your door squeaks
There she is, with an oilcan and a screwdriver.

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