If there were a god I'd deny him
I'd hammer the dead flesh of his face
I'd snap at his hand as he stooped
to pat me. With tears and a gun I'd waylay him.
I'd take a rainbow-quick silver
of glass, and gouge his balls out
I'd slash at his groin till the pain
was red hot and his blood gushed rust like oil.
I'd gnaw at his shin bone
with his spidery hairs, a mad dog
foaming away the obedient centuries-
then I'd yank his heart out, like the shark
biting through all the ages of fish on the hook -
a greasy stomach a mottled blue fin.