I’m sure they’ll sneak under my skin
crawl over my chest
sleep on my tongue
bury themselves in my flesh
replicate in my blood
dance in my spittle
move
within my diseased
entrails
give birth to the fallen ermine
beneath the wingless
esplanade
the monster’s awake
“death smells like semen “
whispered the monk
"under thy steeple
we lay
as ripe
as virgins"