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Hilltop: A Literary Paper. Volume 1 Number 1

Chant for Ritual

Chant for Ritual

Uncelibate in secret doorways, shadow-shrouded
like mourners—lovers, reminding of the need
to be afraid. The dragon sows his seeds
blackly amongst their kisses, crowded
from sight for silence, the illegal moon
drowsing their eyes from honesty too soon
to face betrayal in the conjuring lips
moving from napewards sunderwards—the hips
succulent as hibiscus, fly-tormented,
leaving in drenching dark their dream demented.

Sharp as the gunfire of stars, the jazz of lights
overwhelming; in the dance the stance—
promiscuous invitation—shook the flower—once—
twice—now the hour invests more ravenously whites
of the eyes beleaguering expectation; urge
lointender arteries in foetal surge
surrendering, rendering caesarsideways the
black sundering doorstanding allways under
the fallen heaven of arches the Goths
hammer at gates,
hands shapelessness offers a mouthful of moths.