The Devil’s voice

Grandma said that I shouldn’t say such things.
“You can’t let The Devil take your voice.”
When I did bad things, she said I was letting The Devil take my hands.
Even if I didn’t say or do bad things, I thought them, and Grandma said I was letting The Devil take my head.
Grandma said lots of things, but so did The Devil.
And I gave him my ears, and I listened.
Walking out of Grandma’s burning house, holding her severed head by her hair.
Laughing.
Yes, I gave myself, whole, complete, to The Devil.
And I liked it.

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