In the Church of Satan After Dark: A Poem by Avra Margariti
In the Church of Satan After Dark
You and I snuck in to pet
The baby goats
Roaming freely through oaken pews.
They skipped and headbutted one another
With nubs of horns, black-pearl hooves,
And velveteen fur
That slipped through our fingers
Like the darkness behind stars.
The wine was left uncapped
On its polyester cobwebbed altar.
You and I drank straight from the bottle
Sealing our lips around its rim, red-stain kisses,
The taste like grapes cultivated
In cellars deep underground
And rhubarb forced by candlelight
Growing so fast the roots and stems
Screamed.
I know blood sacrifices are banal,
You said, spreading yourself in offering upon
The pentagrammed ground
Over your cloak of raven wings.
You caressed along your bare thigh
Watching the trickle of crimson under moonlight.
I laughed and settled on the steps to watch
Your fingers work
The bleeding core of you
In the church of Satan after dark.
Avra Margariti is a queer author and Pushcart-nominated poet with a fondness for the dark and the darling. Avra’s work haunts publications such as Vastarien, Asimov's, Liminality, Arsenika, The Future Fire, Love Letters to Poe, Space and Time, Eye to the Telescope, and Glittership. Avra lives and studies in Athens, Greece. You can find Avra on twitter (@avramargariti).
