Could this god grow as bold
As a prince kneeling to kiss
The parted lips of a peasant?
Could this god kiss even me?

And if he did
Would ancient Roman marble ridges
Meet my mouth
Or would I taste trembling fleshy hills?

I drink from a cool stream.
Would his breath be sweet like expensive perfume,
Or strange like fresh paint?
A breeze blows through pines and I smell dust.

If I followed with my hand his chin to cheek to jaw
Would I trace a landscape of healthy skin cells
Or silver-plaited silken threaded locks?
I grasp at a thousand baby saplings’ roots.

Would his embrace be warm as mother’s
Or cold as grandfather’s father?
Dirt and beauty cover me
As I join grandfather’s father.