I have burnt incense at your altar for five days and nights this week,

As you told me to. I have slain my fatted calf and collected the warmth

Streaming from its neck while it still choked on its dying breath.

I have watched the shine of life turn to cold, jellified indifference

As I slit the skin and peeled away the muscle and cleaned the bones,

Long and short. I have laid the best cuts of flesh at your altar still

Pink and wet, darkening the old stone beneath.

I have chase the flies and the birds and the worms away

So that you might feast before the carrion.

I have bathed in the cold river and scrubbed myself so raw I wept

With the stinging of the bristles so that my body might be clean.

I have anointed myself with the sacred oils and soft silks

That my body might please you. I have perfumed my long black hair.

I have cut my bare feet on the walk to your temple,

And broken my back through many hours of tender supplication

I have cut my long black hair. And I have burned it.

I have tossed and turned with the energy of fever dreams upon the cold

Stone floor of your home. Woken up with dirt and soot sticking to my

Sweat-slick skin, staining me like ink on wrinkled parchment.

I have done all this, and yet you have not come.

How much longer must I wait?