it is not my harvest; it is i who am harvested
how do i un-domesticate God
for he is feral not to be pinned
by my imaginings
harvested for my purpose
i smell the stars
taste the rumble of the sea
remember the perfect softness
of my god-daughter’s beautiful
demands to be held
and i just know
with every breath
he is a wild God
infinitely
extravagant