Nestling awkwardly between blind faith of
my father and hypocritical disenchantment of mother
at the risk of being dispossessed or abandoned
or both, I must confess that last year
confirmed what I had been suspecting
for a long time that the gods of my father
and forefathers are migratory
while I try not to hold their godmen against
The gods fashioned after the images of men of the cloth
who make it a point to chastise cloisterers in private after dark
The idea of them locking themselves in a temple
At the top of the hill just to avoid ladies who
Might be ovulating unnerve me
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