KRISTI MAXWELL
IMMORTAL GAME (9)
The bones of God's hands are laid over the town.
One hundred and eight—an equivalent of bones in four human hands.
He throws them like pick-up-sticks.
He bones the town.
We
move like calcium, absorbed, then disengaged with His bones.
Sunday,
and your bed—our bodies built up: a deposit.
He is more Divine Middle Ear: anvil, stirrup, and hammer.
Which is father, and which son—
the Ghost is easy: I balance my weight in was.