Carnival Trade

Above and below, the masochist show Their tangled dread and frantic glow Of faces abhorred by the overhead. They stitch their lips and begin again. In catacomb dream, they march and throw Up their hands for torture to blow Through their incarnates, their pigments that grow When shrines of men are slaughtered instead, Above and below. The carrier shows as her massacre slows What little is left, the Masters do flow- Mourn thy Driver, enslave the wind For when ancestors tumble back again. Dior the evil, we may know, Above and below.