When Gods were Real
We used to meet divinity inside Our guts.
Gods wrenched the bowels, or heart, or lungs
With flushing presence, left our sternum dyed
With holiness, and filled with praise numbed
tongues. Direct, they haunted us in fire and smoke
We breathed in nostrils and took down the throat.
The shamans sent down mystery to choke
Us. Priests found singing therapies to bloat
Our spirits’ bellies, putting herbs and blood
Upon our willing teeth so we could lick
To depth our arteries. Gods were the cud
We chewed when tragedy filled us with slick
Dismay. Ram blood when swallowed was the best
Or smell of burned bulls breathed in chanting chest.