Can you keep a secret?
My parents would be horrified to know
that I put pieces of fried God in my mouth
that I bit and chewed and swallowed the Divine;
that He’s digesting in my stomach as we speak.
But you know what troubles me most?
It’s that God walks proudly where my grandfather lives,
where children suffer a hunger I will never know.
Where people with fingers and faces just like mine
worship Him and beg for scraps on the streets.
If there really was a God,
and I really got to meet Him,
I think I’d cook Him alive,
and feed Him to His children.