Little Thing

Kneel, the gods whisper

Get on your aching knees and pray

Clasp your hands

Close your eyes, little thing

Turn up to face the clouds, feel the damp on your lips, on your cheekbones

You are so pretty this way

And a familiar twinge returns, a dagger twist in the sternum

Choking on invisible blood

Heart rushing, stuttering

Collapse in the pooling ends of breath

Thought falters

The gods dote and murmur

Poor little thing

Lying there, so pretty

You’re so pretty when you’re kneeling, they croon

You’re even prettier when you’re dead