Virgil e Dante

I will lead you through the trees and
the patches of bare dirt over rotting flesh,
and I will teach you the ways of a devil
in the cage of a soul, his own rage, his own torment.

We will starve in the woods
looming over the skeleton of this town and
these ragged people,
and you will know what it is to want your pound
of pain and blood.

There will be spindles of morning
through the black canopy and thicket,
but you will know no ends, let alone beginnings.

This is suffering. Hope is for the young and lonely, and I will always be with you.

Judas,
I am telling you these things because I love you.
I know the rhyme of silver and sirens.
I know the bend of that neck against tough twine.
Our skin has scraped against the same teeth.

You are evil. But I will show you that evil is only selfish sorrow.

There are steeples of blackened wood over knelt,
blackened men in this town spread thin over red graves.

Believe in me, and I will reveal that
my hands are filled with stolen grief, glittering
in the dark. This is the currency of hate and pity.

My family swings from gnarled trees, eyes casted
up, pale against the thicket, missing the sun.

I will take you past their limp hands hanging, and
you will see that
my story and
your story
are the same.

This town is small but
the smothered breathe still,
and these poor
and these haggard are,
too, your family.

The bones of the river welcome you.