We Are God Vacationing in Hell

We Are God Vacationing in Hell

A spirit glides swiftly over the water

a small spinning figure
disappears from the dark glade

a careworn understanding of all that we are
overwrought with sympathy
slips quietly away
leaving us rattling unmusically

we watch the trees die
the creeks dry
there is a ghost in my bed
it’s myself in my head
pressed against me unembarrassed
poisoning me with compassion
protecting me
from the fullness and beauty of acceptance

I stand shaped by your hands
full of a remembrance
that clatters noisily in my hollow everything.