If there is a god you must sculpt my bellied likeness then
bury me so dirt chokes my cry.
If there is a god you must bruise me with your broad hand,
the one with the Rolex.
If there is a god, you must snap my bones and giggle.
If there is a god, you must punch my womb and admire
my body’s pliancy.
If there is a god you must plunge me to a watery death,
as an argument rivaling Aquinas’ that there is a god.
If there is a god you must burn me, millions of me,
and warm to the frisky stench.
If there is a god, pray gratitude you were not born me,
and who will blame you?
You are reading this, you are not reading this. There is
You are listening, you are disinterested. There is a god.
You feel shame, or none. There is a god.
I am four hundred dead in the desert yet there is a god.
My children are target-rage and yet there is a god.
I am laughed at and condescended to and there is a god
there is, trust me.
I took the leap of faith over your life, proving there is
We are kneeling on our hearts agreeing this thing in each
of us is what I am calling god.
“Further Arguments” appeared in Minnesota Review, Spring 2007.
Sarah Sarai believes Audre Lorde will return to save us. Her poems are in Ascent, Yew, Posit, Boston Review, and others; in The Future Is Happy (BlazeVOX), available through Small Press Distribution; in anthologies and chapbooks. Visit My 3,000 Loving Arms.