*

the god likes to drink death from a helmet

he is in his cups when he comes
to me, I think, as the ship pitches

and the word 'he' stretches like a bowstring

*

so many times he has asked, almost crying

can I put it inside you
and I tell him nothing inside me there is

no room inside me, what with the voices and all the death curled up, men in a horse's belly

*

radio pours into me, and I sing it deliberate and wrong

I am god parts                  god eyes                  god mouth
yeah they really want me they really want me they really do

I want to be the girl with the most god

*

the wolf stuffing himself at the plate of the sun

nose noise nuzzle 
gun muscle

god of hot metal whose tight skin will sheath the day-world

*

God kisses mix black with the red;

maroon maybe. They have a knifeness
that opens me to a 'no.'

I strike a match on the rough edge of my tongue and light the torches.

*