Fat God...Thin God
How can you mean to satisfy us by hurling down your bait--
love writhing on a hook and snagged in our guts--
while you, enthroned on the praises of your people
still sit, obese with the answers we still crave?
Surely you must be thin by now, old fisherman,
dragging your hook through the centuries,
casting for us with every morsel of yourself,
luring emaciated us with a bait fish more succulent
than we have dreamed ourselves to be.