Banshee

The last time I prayed 
I pressed tiny fingers, heartbeat throbbing between knuckles
So tight my veins on right and left arms mangled together
Nerves sending splinters and twine up each palm
I prayed to god like he was an exposed bone
I prayed to god like he was a blister
I prayed to god like he was a mold
And I, wound of a mouth, screamed at every dark corner of the room
If only he could feel the spit fly, the blood boil
If I could only put the fear back into him