said the senior alter boy to me,
you are timothy, timotheos, fearer of god
and as i stood there in the sacristy,
steeped in frankincense,
blushing in my crimson cassock,
all the while concealing something sinister under my tongue,
i smile and nod yes i am.
but it was not an act of timidity
when i stole into the organ loft,
invoked the forbidden toccata
and the heavens poured a great flood
upon this forsaken old fishing town
(it was climate change, jesus fucking christ)
no, these hands are not afraid to perform the black mass
or the white mass,
summon devils or the holy ghost,
or shoo them both away.
why then do they play me pianissimo
when i am clearly marked, con furia, ecstatico, impetuoso?