I am the sin barer
goat supping up
the soupy bread
that you spiced with
your lies and violence,
to achieve spiritual purity.

I watch and transcribe
the things that you do,
recalling and retelling
the horrors you committed
throughout time.

You ****** the memory
of our greatest tragedies,
all those atrocities,
white sheet warriors
burning crosses
and lynching men,
all those right wing
fanatics who spew hate
and vote in
the corporate supporting
politicians,
all those war hawks
hawking bombs and drones,
all those burnt bodies buried
beneath those broken homes,
all those charred broken bones.

I cry out but just as I am
about to reach you
your rusted blade slices up
and inside my tight gut.
Warm viscera falls through
sloshing out greasy and sloppily
on the grassy meadow beneath you.

How easily I become the repository
for your sick story
as you sacrifice me
to rid your self
of all those memories.