God of Brine

GOD OF BRINE

a swelling from the deep; rising
from an ancient berth and hope,
emerald thing, bound in salt and
sea—God of Brine—widow maker,
friend to pagan men, brother to an
ithacan wanderer who spurned worship;

brought now from whispered, rotten
realms, keeper of atlantis, graveyard,
invincible monster, barrier, lover,
giver of life; we offer up our bodies
to your embrace, that you might feed
your children as we have fed ours.

flanked now by barren fields, sunless skies;
the earth will not sustain us, and we
have lost our faith, our way, our pride
our roman selves, our grecian selves,
our mighty atheists, our dreamers, our
wanderers.

teach us—God of Brine—to believe
again. you, who we have conquered:
rise up once more like the starry night
shrouded by seaweed, by refuse, and what
remains of our beloved dead; defy us,
that we might defy you.