Christians w ouldn’t stand for it; they said C hrist’s the last one,
he died for us so we don’t need to be cut but God wants them
sliced and they know it so they do it for health or sanitation as
if it’s secular garbage removal but in their hearts they know ,
God wants them cut, you don’t get aw ay with not being a girl
for Him except you w on’t be His favorite girl. They take it out
on us, all o f them, sliced or threatened, sliced or evading it,
enlisted or the equivalent o f draft dodgers; manly men;
fucking the hole God already made; He was there first; there
are no virgin girls; the toy boys always get used goods. Their
thing, little next to His, aspires to omnipresence; and Daddy
watches; a perpetual pornography; blood-and-guts scenes o f
pushing and hitting and humiliation, the girl on the bed, the
girl on the floor, the girl in the kitchen, the girl in the car, the
girl down by the river, the girl in the woods, the girls in cities
and towns, prairies and deserts, mountains and plains, all
colors, a rainbow o f suffering, rich and poor, sick and well,
young and old, infants even, a man sticks it in the mouths o f
infants, I know such a man; oh, he’s real; an uncle o f mine; an
adult; look up to him, listen to him, obey him, love him, he’s
your uncle; he was born in Camden but he left, smart, a big
man, he got rich and prominent, an outstanding citizen; five
infants, in the throat, men like the throat, his own children, it
was a daddy’s love, he did that, a loving daddy in the dark, and
God watched, they like the throat, the smooth cavity o f an
infant’s mouth and the tiny throat, a tight passage, men like it
tight, so tiny; and the suction, because an infant sucks, it pulls
and it sucks, it wants food but this food’s too big, too
monstrous, it sucks, it pulls it in, and daddy says to him self it
wouldn’t suck if it didn’t like it; and Daddy watches; and the
infant gags, and the infant retches, and the infant chokes; and
daddy comes; and Daddy comes; the child vomits, chokes,
panics, can’t breathe, forever, a lifetime on the verge o f
suffocation. I don’t have much o f a family, I prefer the streets
frankly to various pieties but sometimes there are these shrieks
in the night, a child quaking from a crime against humanity,
and she calls out, sister she says, he sliced m y throat with a
sword, I remember it but I don’t, it happened but it didn’t, he’s
there in the dark all the time, watching, waiting, he’s a ghost
but he isn’t, it’s a secret but w hy doesn’t everyone know? H ow
does an infant get out from under, Him and him; him; oh, he
does it for a long time, it begins in the crib, then she crawls, a
baby girl and all the relatives go ooh and ah and the proud papa
beams, every night, for years, until the next one is born, two
years, three years, four years, he abandons the child for the
next infant, he likes infants, tiny throat, tight suction,
