Mind of RimeAshley VanDoorn
Plates, stellars, needles, columns— slow as ice feathers grow into wind I comprehend why the bound boy thrashed while the demons went howling out— yawn-wide mouths and crackling snake bodies— capped columns, crystals—not a change of mind, but changed by the mind— spatial dendrites, irregular crystals— Could tell he was possessed they said by his eyes turned inward—spherical particles, cuplike fragments—brought forth from within how winds rush rain into ice—I was addicted to God and wanted to swallow my own throat— Temple kissed numb by a firefly wearing the devil's face—capped clusters, irregular stellars—Hoar frost blurs the windows— His tongue a smoke I cannot grasp, guts indifferent wicks—chipped columns, sickle clusters—Screws Himself into my navel and runs, leaving towers of pointed glass in His wake— needles, needlelike fragments—The boy was blind before the demons entered and until they left— In their exit I see God's mouth—an angel in the form of noctilucent clouds—pale pink skin, mint shadows, black eyes and lips, wings of graupel, sleet, hail—it may not be an angel—grovel, sleep, hell—unspherical plates, particle cups, clustered irregulars—After exorcism the boy could hardly stand—shiver—what he knew—what burned within him now all over—So cold—my mind— rimed by our minds melted—grapple, sleek, help— uncupped crystals, sick spatials, sphered chips— absence of frozen found inside wind—demon event—said fever, fervor, fury—fragmentlike splits, columned needles—God needs you to be good— soft diamonds, slush—To be good you need God.
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