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i know who you are
Wormwood sprang up in the track of the serpent as it writhed along the ground
when driven out of Paradise.
—E. Cobham Brewer
the monk’s tonsure is his crown
they prey on you, these priests even they
have quotas to meet
the atheist is but a child
aggrieved by the perceived
indifference of the father
i am the fallen communicant call it
the “fortunate fall” wafer and wine
are just wafer and wine
enjoy your life,
font of blasphemy your path
is lined with wormwood
and your bed, like mine, with worms 
Bruised Forest
i know who you
are
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