my gods live in the places I have bled
the trees under which I have surrendered to man and moon
my gods live in coastlines I have wandered
they are sand dollars in a shoe box
ashes of friends
poems scribbled on boarding passes
napkins, bank statements.

my gods are ferocious and constantly changing
they live in stark landscapes of browning corn 
in the mountains tall and grey,
covering the sunrise
offering nothing more than shadows and hopes