Dances to hymns can be a revolution
If you just pop that hip, and let the Devil in.
Raise the arms— Glory be!
And make room for the tongue that fattened when
you let the Devil in.
There’s a different colored light between the legs of those who
move for God
and those who lap up the spittle of Genesis left on the dance
floor
(After they let the Devil in).
It doesn’t smell like sacrament down there forever,
So do a split and cop a whiff, you’ll know to let the Devil in.
Now make love to the madness of being a woman without
God—
And stamp towards the door and tell the Devil to come on in.
