Feasting
by Jo Christian
If God were a bird, she'd be a vulture,
a bald and pink head, neck deep in some bloated
and dead thing. She'd be sacred in her disgust,
evident in our gag-like reflex to swerve the car,
far round this Communion, to not hit
what is already decomposing, what is being fed.
If God were God at all, she'd be
the bloated body, waning like wax
in the unyielding sun, feeding the bird and dirt.
If God were me, and I was God, I wouldn't swerve,
I'd slow down, stop the car and watch as one
bare creature feeds another, witnessing what we all share
of one another— all life lived under the same blue
nothing, called sky.
Jo Christian (they/them) is a spiritual seeker, writing instructor, and poet living and writing in Southern Illinois. Their work has appeared in Gulf Stream Magazine, Transom, on the Academy of American Poet's page, and more. They earned their MFA in poetry from Southern Illinois University, and their MA from the University of Louisville.
