the children dont get to play in the woods,
the elders forbid it.
there are monsters in those trees,
devils in the roots, former-men in the caves.
children die here like nowhere else,
crucified for punishment
and entertainment in the cold days.

the elder women make clothes
from the skin of dead children
and everyone has a full wardrobe.

they used to
hurt but now
they keep
us warm

today is the sacrifice.
the gods demand it.
all the village is here as witness,
praying and screaming.
they talk in tongues
and the elders speak
in an ancient language
brought to them by the gods.

they take the girl,
crying and afraid,
place her on the sacrificing stone
and cut her throat,
the blood collected in bowls,
passed around and drunk from.

the tanner skins the body
while everyone becomes delirious,
caught up in the customs
of imaginary beings.

her backbone will be
reinforced and given
to the boy with
the broken legs
so he may walk again.

they will feast on the flesh
once the perverts
are satiated.
nothing
ever
goes
to
waste