God, you’re so wet

“all the fountains of the great deep burst apart,
and the floodgates of the sky broke open” (Genesis 7:11)

‍

in her old age, she discovers squirting
           by accident
something like anger swirling from her
           pelvic floor
something like the force that pushes flowers up
           in spring
we worship her with rhythmic determination
           she receives
each prayer like a kiss to her inner thighs
           whispers
of supplication, wet mouths to her ear lobes
           she thanks
us for speaking in tongues, wants us to keep going
           the great deep
‍hers as known and mysterious as anyone else’s
           explored
alone on days of rest, this pressure, that
           position
then opened up for the world to bear witness
           to take her
as bride or queen or master or river or disaster
           as natural
as they come and no less surprising than
           any quaking
downpour, so we stand under the sky
           in street
clothes, bathe in her blessed holy water
           choke
on the bursts like devoted followers, daze
           home
dry off slowly, dream about the way creation tastes