The Judas Tree

Porcelain encases my head, eyes closed, 

toxic insides disembogue into the Holy stream. 

Moths thrash against my innards, 

frantic to flee; 

they know the Divine day has arrived. 

Countless nights I’ve spent on hands and knees 

violently spewing the traitorous fluids I hold inside. 

My life has been measured out in communion cups– 

Heavenly Drain-O remedies to purge the disgust 

I cling to it desperately.

Slowly lifting my head with a final heave, 

with lungs full of impious sawdust,

I see you– that apple tree– 

standing proud, firm, robust. 

Lips to bark as the moths eat through my stomach lining; 

torrents of wine drip to the earth

as the fluttering eclipse performs sacrificial dances.  

My intestines pulled from their cavity– 

noose of entrails to tie around your branches.

Here I hang with the weightlessness I’ve always yearned for,

forever awaiting the silver I rightfully deserve.

By Levi Southerland