Core.

Fashion me a kiln
Out of bricks, mortar and blood.
When you pound me
Into a crucible
I want you to think
About the circling sycophants
That fly overhead, collecting
Half price markdowns,
Smacking sidewalks with flip flops
With the dust of the Wichita ghettos
Still clinging in arcs over your windshield.
Tell me
Where you put the Body
For Life DVDs
So I can never watch them.

I need a cylindrical vessel of purity
Where God can pour his holy heat.

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~ by Jade Elizabeth on August 10, 2012.

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