When God Was 8, Too

I asked God if he had a best friend.
I asked Him if He was inside lions, too.
I asked Him what hurt Paris. Then I
changed my mind. I made a deal with
Him: if I stayed close, He would, too.

I asked Him about Mom’s wine spritzers.
He didn’t know. I said that He could talk
too sometimes. I told on my Dad when he
hit Mom the time I hid in the closet. Dad
stopped living with us after that. God
moved away, too.

Where We’d Jump Off and In

The dock where crabs would hang
onto the bait in cold waters of mid-June,
then fall away and back in – where

he always made sure I got in
the dinghy safely on Sunday mornings,
my white pumps in hand, my life jacket

wrinkling my new summer dresses
as we motored our way to church
from the island where we became
engaged – having fallen in love forever,

jumping off and in.