Imago Dei

A crow searches for a murder

while a man strips berries

from a thorned bush

you know—there are always thorns

My eyes skim corners

rotting with a dark age

and the shards 

of other broken girls

Mayflies swarm—

thick as a curse

fleeting as the Eucharist

and my own mortality

I am the nameless woman

dainty hands, eyes downcast—

which he read 

as an invitation

His lies lie at my feet—

spilt seeds, broken roots

a hoodie over his hair shirt

itching with foreknowledge

He buried revelation

beneath a perfect surface

hiding cloven hooves

in Nike sneakers

And I became a small work of art—

an anonymous imago dei

a mayfly

a flicker in the corner of your eye

blink—

and it’s as if 

I was 

never there