When the devil said don’t eat
we feasted. When he said
do whatever I tell you
we laughed and watched otters
in winter weather. Overfed
on novellas and sit-coms
we searched our closets
for songs and leftover
coats. Everything was ripe
for our flesh. We romped
in our First Communion
clothes and wore our sweat
proudly while our mothers
bade us drink nothing but
water. We gathered feathers.
This was no time to be
grounded. We prayed Our Mother
Who Art this Earth and declared
the women in the street
holy. The devil spoke again:
there are too many of you.
We kept eating and seeking
and burning.