a god

Once there was a god who opened his mouth,
parted his forehead and widened his lips
the whole world opened. The upper lip was the horizon,
and the waterline, walking distance.
Between presence and absence,
he held the void and eternity
in his hands, pulled them open;
his mouth aimed at space, he stretched his lips
asked and answered
was present and left

A misleading breeze
shifts between the noble voice
and the playful echo
repeating
sit down you odd girl – breathe, write,
tell yourself the truth
that is not, and what you want.
Truth is a voice that
asks and answers, lightens and darkens
and the whole world continues
on its own without you

Absence is a rope, the question is a mark,
curiosity is a connection birthing a woman
tying her soul
to the question’s body
How?
Who are you?

With its own strings it strums and sleeps
the question’s body,
returning
repentant,
an odd woman and
a man
of her own.