God was the Pleiades.
God was the peonies.
God was Eve and God was me.
God was the gardener.
God was the garden.
The flesh of the fruit that didn’t yet harden.
God was the serpent.
God was the fruit.
Can it be forgiven to assume, that, too,
God was the knowledge?
God was the truth.
God, my teeth, wrapped around the fruit.
He wasn’t the angel
with flaming sword.
He had no station of King or Lord.
God had no poles
and he had no sides.
God wasn’t a person from whom you could hide.
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