A jawbone bell swings without a hand Its hollow note deforms the night Five hooded fiends approach in silence Bearing candles made of tallow-white The Defiler enters veiled in leeches Censer fumes pour from his sleeves With one crooked finger raised He draws a doorway in the steam No hinge No lock No threshold laid Yet all who kneel can see it open No light enters No name leaves The moon looks down A ritual obscene A chalice carved from blackened antler Passes slowly mouth to mouth Each creature drinks it nearly empty Each returns it brimming out Jaws unhinge in adoration Spines arch backward at the sound The missing men sing through their throats Begging from somewhere underground Smoke descends While shadows rise The doors stare inward The windows close their eyes The hut bows low upon its stilts As though receiving absolution The Defiler raises the empty chalice The swamp climbs upward to the rim He overturns the cup above the circle The Defiler opens his arms The congregation folds in half Beneath their bodies Something evil now awakes THE RITUAL HAS BEEN HEARD
