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Canticle of a Bored HausfrauTo Marie Lecrivain's next piece

Brotherhood of the grasshopper

Welcome to the nightmare never dreamed,
excitement not
revealing itself in the 
obvious way and 
you will feel the thread from 
you to me
to him 
and back again
in years of pain
when joy is anamnesis.
Entree to
this exquisite hell is by invitation only,
but at your request
to be
baptized in golden ichor,
reborn in the taboo underbelly
of all things disgusting and stretched out to 
in the withering heat of judgement 
by your loved ones-
all actions of all your present and future consequence
regarded as sin.
Your graceful form
into a jumble of sticks and 
hollow-eyed desperation.
years and flesh melt
in cold 
sweat and a miasma of
demented reflections on 
lost glories gambled for one 
moment of 
erotic roulette.
You’ve won:
Little capsules of borrowed time 
are prayers to the gods 
illusion of normalcy
covering the stain of your 
past transgression and your imminent appointment in
Was this what you bargained for?
As now 
one of us
razor legs and skinny frame, 
weirdly beautiful 
swaying in a 
dance on the edge between worlds.
Keep singing into the wind.

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