rolled by a beetle over your sky,
everyday.
Cover your eyes in kohl
against this young gods glare.
Inhale cinnamon oil smoothed
into warm skin. He tells you
there is more than one god.
Beware the crocodile god’s
twist and turn as you fish
for a supper in the god of the river.
And your last journey by boat
up that swell and surge
demands the swirl of paddle
canvas stretched by breath.
