Reunion with God

_____I would not think to touch the sky with two arms — Sappho

I’d need a spade
for the family dinner, everything
kills so everything is
murderous, of course, half my days
I touch you with a speckle,
your body of a paring knife—
your vivid protected
body, infrared, pinks & yellows
& greens— I’d need a spade
for the family dinner, virgined
& brass, copper is
known for its bacteria killing
abilities, rots your skin. God
isn’t an all powerful
dude in which I place my body
like a cat snug in a drawer, &
he isn’t a man— nor
a dude in several ways, he
didn’t meet the criteria
& God didn’t make it molten,
those edenic women made it molten.
My tame palms are scrids
of an edenic bar: grass-grown
stools, human bodies
attached to convicted axes, &
mistresses. The berry blood serpent,
intelligent like females of a species—
operating / molting / rolling
/ peeling / stained at the
mouth, stubbornly hungry.