Give me a god who is Love

not like pink cutout butterflies
on the sad cinder block walls of
a Sunday school daycare

but like how you can’t sleep at 2 a.m.
remembering the first time you
tasted your girlfriend

or how you run inside during a
thunderstorm because you don’t
want to get struck by lightning or

when your foot can no longer
touch the bottom of the ocean
and you panic because
it’s all Just Too Big

don’t offer me your supermarket
god picked out to match your
buttercup kitchen curtains

give me a god who dances
naked and scandalously
in the rain