in this life, the secrets of the universe unravel at her tongue-
quiet, dreary, morbid, like honey.
she speaks and god decides to follow her every word. she speaks, and the water retracts from the sand, swallowing deeper and deeper into the ocean until it comes back full force and engulfs the nation whole.
she speaks and the redwoods bend to her will.
i ask her,
i say “how could anyone possess the very heart of a god, so that she may bend or break the world with the dip and trill of her throat?”
she tells me “how could anyone deny me that which the world bends and breaks for? I’m beautiful,
and tall,
and beautiful,
how could anyone deny me a god?”
i say “the world would happily fall for you, die and kill and go to war for you; the ocean turns red for you, it takes back its depths and throws it at us; the weight of the earth buckles under the waves which buckle against your neck- all of this for you. how could you possess the very heart of the universe?”
she tells me “the ocean weeps at night for her lover, the moon god, across the blanket of the night sky. she longs for her, and throws hurricanes across the earth for her. in this life, the gods strike sky and break thunder, warring for the right to throw monsoons.”
“so?” i ask
“so,” she says, “in this life,
am I a god,
or a monsoon?”
|| GOD’S HANDLER -becoming silent ||
