—Dionysian rite; an act of rending, mangling
We’re so good at tearing apart voided
checks, love letters, the charred carrion
of critters trapped in a savannah fire
good gamey god cooking blew up
our bare-bones brains all life depends
on a doom-eager star something eating
something else we gave ourselves
dominion over the makeshift circus
of myth now we can story as we see fit
Dionysus had his women divide by hand
his proud cousin Pentheus whose own mom
rallied the frenzied throng we’ll do
anything to come together at communion
a cracked tablet of unleavened bread I no longer
partake of the dream Christ’s body
in my hands but I wish I did
a few years back a referee in Brazil
was stoned, decapitated, and quartered
because of a bad call he also opened
a player’s throat with a razor-blade
we’re expert bread-breakers listen
the disembodied head of an Orphic goat
sings in the dreamy trees tonight the dead
center of its voice cannot hold the water
buffalo in Apocalypse Now was really hacked
up remember how it buckled
under the long blades butter-soft
under the weight green going
from its watery eyes I’m looking
to put this all back together maybe
when we awoke the world was whole
what perfect teeth, opposable thumbs
we needed the kingdom to fit
in our mouths a great fire climbed
the sky and we came starving

Gregory Emilio’s poetry and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Best
New Poets, Crab Orchard Review, F(r)iction, Midwestern Gothic, Nashville
Review, Permafrost, Spoon River Poetry Review, The Poet’s Billow, The
Southeast Review, and Valparaiso Poetry Review. He’s the Nonfiction Editor
at New South, and a PhD candidate in English at Georgia State University in
Atlanta.