God

God is succulent and sweet-tipped,
shut up, Majorie,
you have little friends of your own – icing plates and furry dogs.
Sweet sawdust floating in confetti-shaped felony.
The high lovers and high peaces,
shaped with button noses and rounded-eyelids.

Lift up the lovers and sell the deified.
A deified diet, one a day, two for three.
Buy Love in cylinders, ointments, tree oil.
Liquid glistens and verdantly skins an envelope of the tree,
addressed to Mercy.

She sits atop the vine, awaiting a letter from Destiny.
Goblets sourcing gluey potions and bitter substances.
Full of everything, full of everything they say.
A deathly eye in the reddened sea-creature, looking among the children. The gluttony, a never-ending circle of life.