Kunchaka Fonseka is a graduating senior at Townsend Harris High School and will attend Northwestern University in the fall. He is the Sports Editor for The Classic, Townsend’s critically-acclaimed newspaper. He is a learned bass guitarist as well as a member of the THHS Jazz Ensemble.
A Demonic Grace
A monologue from Satan in his bathtub surely engulfed in salt and smoke.
I am surely of sacred matter,
Behind you, your grandest desire,
A shell laden beetle, I slither by your heel.
Your fear, it loans my life
The day of rest I profess, possess- enliven
Shake my pawns and pour the drink higher
Mind a bite, drink and kneel together
Don’t think, don’t breathe- we are joined by internal arteries
I am the octopus’ wreath- a love untold
The grand organ and chains chime in unison
Revering severed feet and toes once moisten.
At dusk, untossed sheets paused, you pray
For saviors and merciful who wane in the dark.
In my scepter is love, a fiery ball in your heart
And you will be pleased for I am all,
in me you find similarity.
I, the, wolf whose path the master avoids yet tracks
Now see, that boy is my goat forged on sour vine.
Most my followers are all five adept
A demonic grace in air and blood combined
Dreams do not circumvent me nor do vices.
Accolades to souls and laborers eternal, I lay watch.
© Kunchaka Fonseka