Is this a reliquary, or some other
arcane and ill-touched altar
in which a shard of centuries’-
saved blood has begun
to slosh once more against its walls, beguiled
by faraway and logorrheic
chants, to reliquefy? Is this
the housing of some
that cannot but go slithering
always past our hard, congealing stare?
Lay jewels, then: embed
ebony and bloodstone in this
tiny, hardly seen, and unbudged door.