My internal collapse, dare to stand Open the mouths, chasms of the forebear’s corpse The taste of our mother’s flesh, the fading chorus Embodied the motionless who pause to exhale Hands severed and hung aligned Scavenged fragments of the wretched dressed The nigredo carved upon the forehead with fire It is legion that hides within, therein, herein, within Assembled, orb, less, black mires mourning Watchers in the wake, carrion choir Rivers traced upon the ravaged callouses The crux, the cripple, I, futility, I, futility Futility A hammer held by gnarled fingers The fist of cold stares, the unrelenting A cry to mass, phantom phrasings The rise and fall of faith My other name spoke from within this ruin, and hallowed be As I nailed the hands of the many limbed, o endless limbs Aloft, their palms acknowledged, anointed, and drowning Odour of sanctity, blessed putrescence It beckoned the dead man and his burial places As dyadic yet as I Transfiguration of melded light For it is divinity who hides within, therein, herein There is only all Wretched in all this glory There is only I Radiant in rot