Good/Black Friday

On a Friday we ate from His gushing sidediscounts and credits buzzing in our stomachs,electronics shining in our eyes, disrupting circadian rhythms.We ate our monthly-sold fleshthinking that one more—this one—would make hunger pangs disappear.

Is this the monthly saving bread?A new host come to feed us, living on,long after our bones are reworked intofertilizer.

A sacrifice that HE demands, a yearly purge to satiate,to remind that no mind is left disconnected, untouched, by meaningpreceding overcomingi.

“Don’t rip words from their language games. Use them to trade.”

But what if I ripped to pierce the crucified body,hammer knees caps into mud,pummel the body into liquid no nail can     holdonto?

Such ripping, such choking air bubbles in throats, such warped floor boards,bending store doors barricading against masses pressing injust to graze the hem of His garbadine garment:this viral faith in black mirrors that all things hoped forwill finally be uncoveredseen.