​Selling the Soul
When dank
the plumes of colored beasts,
when shifting
are their words,
you shudder at the wretched screams
of paradisal birds.
The empty call of hollow trees,
a woman burned at stake;
you wander aimless
to your home,
a child's head to break.
You wicked thing
to follow all the people
of the devil;
you know that all your deeds of good
are for the sake of evil.
So bring your heart,
prepare it now in heaps
upon a plate,
and bow before me,
quivering,
in hunger and in hate --
quivering and bloody
for your untimely fate.
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