The wheels within the bandit liquor

“Cut off the miracles,” St. Cordry says,
having had his fill of others understanding God.
“Shave their heads until they regret
knowing healing in any vivid terms,”
the archangel John Ritckles cries,
“we will not be so bold as to tolerate
another generation.”

God listened.
God shook His/Her/Their head
and pinned their lips together
with cotton candy and castor oil,
pacified by the oven left open,
the racket, the wheels in bandit liquor.