< Issue 10 >
Harpya
To RS
by Charlie Guzman
The eidolon of my faith drags the body
through the night streets, cemented
with the moans of worshipers. I stand
in front of the source, la casa de Dios.
White stains across stone, the steps reach
forward – I reach the steps, climb them.
The doors of isabelline swing open with
my presence – unveiling the velvet rug.
Down the oak pews, each wraith bows
with their heads covered – skeletal hands
in triumphant prayer and golden beads.
In front, a Harpy pinned upon the cross –
hanging, still breathing, bleeding upon
ivory flesh. Blackened eyes, ash pupils,
stare me down – demands my service
to serve her insatiable appetite. Black
lips open to reveal the rigid jagged teeth.
Por que tu muestras los dientes?
Why stain your white features with blood?
Why for me? Por que para mí?
Harpya
To RS
by Charlie Guzman
The eidolon of my faith drags the body
through the night streets, cemented
with the moans of worshipers. I stand
in front of the source, la casa de Dios.
White stains across stone, the steps reach
forward – I reach the steps, climb them.
The doors of isabelline swing open with
my presence – unveiling the velvet rug.
Down the oak pews, each wraith bows
with their heads covered – skeletal hands
in triumphant prayer and golden beads.
In front, a Harpy pinned upon the cross –
hanging, still breathing, bleeding upon
ivory flesh. Blackened eyes, ash pupils,
stare me down – demands my service
to serve her insatiable appetite. Black
lips open to reveal the rigid jagged teeth.
Por que tu muestras los dientes?
Why stain your white features with blood?
Why for me? Por que para mí?
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