The poison-maker lowers draughts into bubbling blue,
inky black like the dead men’s coves in Styx’s sea,
his hair coils like Dionysos in locks braided with secrets
I have in my hands a string of bloody teeth.
Gums bleeding, I surrender to Python’s bite-
Raven rises from the bubbling concoction
foul-winged and downy-chested with rain
acid drips on the horizon.
I am lost in the Dreaming.
ate my heart.
We dance in ash and madmen
skin charred, I roast for the king.