God Visits Earth

She’s divinely tired arriving in the atmosphere,
jet lagged. Stepped out on the hotel patio
for a smoke,
wants the quiet of the night, wants a
break from the controversy and fan mail,
wants a vacation in the Baltic.

During her terrestrial stay
she ditches the old attire,
feels the lick of moisture, breath of sun
on delightfully bare skin,
might don a pink velvet mini skirt and halter,
and go braless, just to be fun.

She’s left the office. She’s at the liquor store
during the lunch break,
dangling her exalted hands
over the spice rums, chooses one for its cinnamon
flame, a step up from Merlot,
and picks up a cold Coke on the way out

because the place sticky-
hot, even in February,
thinks that the kids have had their fun
destroying it.

She’s leaving notes. One on the napkin
for the waitress at the diner
who brushed

her shoulder, whose perfume lingered,
whose lips are bright static
that speckle her vison.

She’s tied up with someone who
looks like Eve.

It’s possible that you’ve seen her around

By Clara Allison