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MUSED Literary Magazine.

Revelation 17:6

Adam Nagy

We put screws to her thumbs
She bleeds atrocities
We admire her pale austerity
She speaks in prologues
We offer no ultimatums
She clicks her heretic tongue
We parade her through a driving snow
She denounces her grinning keeper
We mock the redeemer and celebrate the beggar
She tames the Priest and sways with the needle
We see the fiction in her green eyes
She tastes the floor and negotiates with God
We confer with the Albino and learn of his calamity
She drinks from the fountain of molten honey
We pour gasoline in the chasm between the rebels and the leeches
She swings from the vines of the Forsaken
We devour the sugar left by the idle Gypsies
She battles the Good Samaritan without hubris
We form a protective hive in the shadows
She bathes in the blood of the Messiah
We prepare to swallow the King´s medicine
She regurgitates his placebo in her pall
We drown out the maddening screams of the departed
She expels the swarm of flies from her blackened lungs

We rage, we divine, we endure
She burns, she surrenders, she dooms
We erase
She resonates
We plead with her to color this endless night
She prays for us to help her, save her, take her away

The eternal horn sounds and echoes through the valley,
warning us to embrace the hollow virtue of silence