Faithless

Faithless

The night sky snakes by,
scratching its underbelly
against the leaf litter of
fallen clouds in the tree tops.

Halos hover above foggy porch lamps -
false prophets that anoint midnight
with greasy puddles of holy light.

But God has bedded down
with a lonely housewife
and faith is lost
in the whispered wind.

All that is left is magic
and I hold it,
bloody and screaming
to my craven breast.

Poetry