who remains in the west.
I am no longer a guest
in my father's house,
much less a son.
This family's God is not
my God, but I am his Satan.
He cast me out of heaven
with a sneer, but I came
back with a black horse
and a burger king crown.
I wrote the poems of His
empire's death, with a wet
crayon. I watch the gaps
between the verses yawn:
that's where the Goddess goes.
I slit His throat
while She irons His clothes.
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