Status Updates From God Themselves

Elevator

I’m in the elevator with
Gawd
& I hope
They don’t ask
about the way I anger-smashed
that beetle on my way here
I avert my eyes
because if I look Gawd
in the face I might ask
why They haven’t anger-smashed
me yet & I might ask
about the dead & I don’t want
that type of clarity—

From Her Bed
I don’t know if my dreams are dreams or memories. / In both, I have no control over what my body does.

This may be true: I was, once (I did exist)

This feels like a poem about a half remembered trauma and it split something in me apart.