-- see dappled trout leap at your eye-hook.
In my box full of God,
warm cold blood,
spelunk through Godbox with wires, with juncos and towhees
we read as musical notes,
flat and sharp.
My godbox is open in the black speck
of your iris,
watching God business
as I put my sock
in my godshoe
and do godwork on god’s water and rock in my god hips
to Muddy Waters in my head blue as the parted sea.
I am Ella in the shower
I bubble my hair with godsoap
feel god run down my leg
into the silver drainpipe in my backyard,
where I'll find my baby asleep by the river on a reed pillow
I wake him as I wipe his goddrool,
and then I finish
with this god-business.
Originally published in Talisman