stale exorcism 

we took our faces on plates
to the church for purification.
the oldest man in the world
kept alive by wine & burning tongues.
he would come & paint us 
with cream. he sat on a television
& together we denounced the news.
god knows nothing 
about the current events or else
maybe he would come down again
in the form of a glorious flood
& make us all unicorns.
a rainbow comes & i hide it
so it doesn't get eaten. i place it
inside a doggie crate. feed it turnips
& dandelion greens. don't get me wrong
i am a worshipper just like
the next spoon-carrier but sometimes
i think it would be better to turn
the old man into wool 
& use him to survive the winter.
i never felt clean when we were through,
instead i felt like a pumpkin
scooped of all its vital guts.
a radio tower winks at me all night.
i know that's where the angels go
to hear exactly what i think 
& believe. it used to trouble me
how sometimes i would open my mouth
& they would speak through me
as if i were just a hallway. 
have you ever been
a corridor for school children
to spit inside of? a linoleum prophet.
then, one day, i didn't take my face 
at all. i held it & ran into the woods 
where the birds ate pieces of it.
flew & knit nests with my eyelashes.
god i felt so wild. back in town i hear
they say i am possessed by
a demon of sugar. this is maybe true
but if so i never want to exorcised. 
let me be a plate of sticky buns
for the darkness to come & feast.