imagine god is a wolf
at the banks of the Tiber.
in its jaws wolf-god
holds a baby by the scruff,
another child lodged somewhere
in its throat.
imagine wolf-god drops the baby
in the reeds at river’s edge.
lets it roll into the shallows.
the baby, fresh and filmed
with blood, can’t tell howl
from lung from water,
can’t tell bone from sky
imagine now that wolf-god
starts to tremble, drops its head
and starts to wretch.
watch as wolf-god rasps its throat
and wracks itself in spasms.
watch as wolf-god wretches up
the other- child who can’t tell blood
imagine though that other-child
knows just how the story goes,
knows he’ll grow to kill his brother,
found a city full of weeping wives,
and watch the city tumour into empire.
imagine other-child wants to speed-up
imagine that before the wolf-god
births the other-child, other-child digs
his little hands past wolfy throat, tears
through wolfy lungs, finds the wolfy heart
and eats it.
and watch as other-child
drags itself from wolf-god’s carcass,
mouth all full of wolf-heart,
watch it sets its eyes upon its brother,
watch him take the brother in his little hands
and drown it.
see that this is how the world is sung –
waterlogged and blue,
twitching in the hands of boy,
as boy looks down at what he’s made,
boy with dead-god dripping
from his mouth,
boy with yellow-eyes and yawning,
boy whose jawline breaks and swings
as lips pull into a smile,
boy who spits the gristle of a dead-god
off a soft pink tongue
and shows the swell of gums
o, this is how the world is sung-
o, little howl hurled up to sky,
o, swallower of hearts.