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Prayer for a New God

-after Francisco X. Alarcon

i want a god who lives in a tattered shack by the sea
mold growing up its cedar shingles,

a god who offers thunder as applause, who knows
the heart is both a rapturous and feigning preacher,
prone to believing loud praise in the body.

i want a god who longs to be satiated by the knobby
fingers of an ugly woman, taking each one  into his mouth,
a god who knows want against his gums,

a god who steps out in the morning
to forgive himself.

i want a god who knows grief, a god with a tiredness
that makes him sink low into his couch, breathless.

i want a god who lifts my feet from this earth
and whispers, you can stop



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