O salutaris hostia [after Thomas Tallis]
We are also eternal,
spitting our wayward goodbyes to the godhead,

the god is hiding behind the window
curtains, he is squatting in the yellow
afterglow of the neon streetlights,
he is in the car
somewhere between me and you

between man
and woman,

the bitter
god, the

there is no mother

We are also eternal,
exalting like sound,
our flared nostrils

the argument that god
is in the bed, god
is your lover,

god is the long wick
of the candle flame, the
raised gasoline that melts
the tip of my fingernail,

the smoky reflection
of my hair burning atop my head
in the mirror;

in the bathroom
you are leaning against the sink
while I shift in the bathwater,

we look at each other,

we look away

the godhead is in the room with us;
the god is the bathwater,
he is suctioning, tornado
funnel, he is slipping down the drain
one gulp at a time,

you touch my face
out of habit, the moon

there is no mother,

no lover, in the unscripted night,
the laceration of cold, a numbing
foot, the baby being born,

we mourn you
with veil and rotting teeth,

we wail at the loss of
the original rib, my own
chest aches and concaves,

you suck the muscle from
my bone, I can no longer

anything, though we continue;

we too are eternal.