A blend of the finest Clove, Lemon, Cinnamon, Eucalyptus & Rosemary. Developed according to the legend of the four thieves in 15th century England who used these and other aromatics to protect themselves while robbing plague victims.
—aromatherapy oil bottle
This proprietary blend of herbs—spearmint, fennel,
shankroot, & ginseng—was steeped to instill an alert
feeling during chill nightlong vigils when waylaymen
waited to ambush the parades of orphans being
transferred between nunneries, & these hand-sharpened knives
benefit from ancient techniques devised to perfect
implements of war that could sliver meat from the bone
more finely than a single-haired brush renders a line,
& this roots-&-spices dry rub—so secret the names
can’t be listed—was refined over generations
to ensure human flesh was not merely edible,
but, well, nummy nummerkins. Here’s a god who bites it
before the end of the book. Here’s a heart so fragile
the fabric of it tears whenever Blink looks at Blank.
Here’s an atmosphere so permeable you can bore
right through it by feeling dorky in bicycle clips.
The superior curvature of this strange posture
was first demonstrated near-simultaneously
by three different demographics: poor people stooping
to pick windfall peaches from a landowner’s orchard
by night, poor people compressing like accordions
in landowners’ mines to gather soundlessly clawfuls
of coal, & poor people leaving landowners’ houses
by the back door like little scurrying question marks.
These spirits, distilled from a now extinct sub-species
of amaranth grain, are used to strengthen the homemade
potions granting their modern-day occultic drinkers
power to force bare hands into the chests of victims
& remove vital organs—liver, lungs, heart—the way
Blink does just by looking at Blank. Here’s a rare perfume
that permeated the room where they cleaned the body
of someone there was no deceit in: sweet hints of fig.
Here’s a god so big he’s unafraid to be eaten.
Oberlin, Ohio
June, 2019