BLOOD KISS

© John Grey

Sun dies in a deep gray puddle.
Wind cuts deep the face
of air's menagerie:
a wolf howls, a goat bleats,
a horse raises its startled head and whinnies
In brooding forest,
a hulking monastery
chokes the throat of starlit sky.
Within its walls,
the inquisition lingers
Crosses recede into shadow.
An altar looks the other way.
Before a trembling candle flame,
the malleus maleficarum is passed
from hand to hand like sacred wafers.
Hunchbacked monks kiss its gold-leafed paper,
taste the crumbling blood.