GO FORTH AND MULTIPLY

Today is the village feast.

One of those late summer feasts

where everyone drinks and no one is happy.

Soon the village will come with its knife,

the pots will be bubbling away,

and I will breathe out my tender, bloodied

flesh: meat fattened

for this or another day.

Could life be nothing but

a preparation for a banquet

or a more ordinary family meal?

To have faith in god is to know

that nothing is suffered in vain:

a howl of sorrow,

a buzz of pain,

a clucking in fear:

for god is goodness

turned to the lowest of the low and to the infinite.

In the end, to have faith is just to believe that

my soul will be easy to digest.

As for my body, I only hope the rooster

comes quick for a final fuck.

Getting laid always lets one forget

for a minute or so the music of death.