God-Country
By Tina Chang
I am the God-code, God knows it all went wrong
in the God-house, I am bone-tired, God-bent,
rolling down a hill in the valley God cried forth,
God-spent, I am often on my knees in wonder,
Godforsaken in the grass so green I taste its embers,
frothing at the mouth, a hunger God-given,
I am humbled, bending to the south stance
of trees on the edge of spring, God-swollen,
God-sounds like the ghost of ancestors scratching
their backs on doors, on walls, edging closer,
God-moaning like holy ghosts, under covers,
smoothing fingers against windows, God-fog hovering
around the edges of the house. I’ve spent all year
God-bored breathing through my only God-face,
a mouth to wail, as to exhale, God-dancing
by the fireplace meant to catch this hem with sparks,
meant to God-kiss all the wrongs of me,
my scraped shins, my ashen hair, dented faith
spiraling down my spine, Godspeed my toes. God,
where is all the God-sense brandishing me with glory,
washing me with God-water, ushering me back
to the beginning, God-done, dog gone, dogs waiting
by the front door to grant me exit, let me enter,
first step onto this God-porch, devotion by the base of me,
I sing to the underside of clouds, God-high or God-well,
deep in the valley where I found you.
