“Do you think God stays in Heaven

because He, too, lives in fear of what

He's created here on Earth?”

–

Romero, Spy Kids 2

I ask her, “Wouldn’t it be too cruel

for a god to make us and nothing

after?” If she were my parrot,

I could point

to a silver bowl, saying: “What’s that?

What’s that, again?”

And at the very least, she would squawk: 

“Metal. Met-uhl.” Tap, tap - with her beak

welcoming reflection. Instead,

it’s us laid out across

a duvet insert—that never had a cover

to begin with—silence set between two

bulbous eyes: iced 

iris mountains—permafrost in not knowing 

and better for it.

“Do you want to go outside?”

Her bobbed tail is out the door

before I can lift up from my elbows.