If we lined up in alphabetical order
of the gods that we believe in,
would the line be longer or shorter
than the demons we fight within?

If we believed in our sons and our daughters
without holy guns to force in their hands,
would our blood run colder or warmer
than the fires we set to win?

Spoiled spoils to the victor,
painted and perfumed with cancer
latent in the holy water
blessing the foolish dancer.