Cribs and Mustard Seeds
Devil sits in burning battlefield pits.
In the foyer of war, ripped eyes.
Scratches on the nightlight.
Beneath the crib of an unborn child.
Devil flashes teaspoons of loneliness.
Travels the backwoods of mind.
A sinister baker in the cupboard.
Honey baked with a pinch of lye.
Devil was in the mouth of Genesis.
And will surely join the ends.
Devil wears the skin of your defeat.
But claims to be your friend.
Devil sashays in the eye of the hurricane.
Wallows deep in the barrel of a gun.
Yellow smile fills his rancid masks.
While shooting the rapids of your blood.
Devil lies deep within the mustard seed.
The suns, moons, and drifting clouds.
A wicked pitchfork tipped with sin.
Turning heavenly upside down.
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