i call my suburb the god district

          because there’s a church on every corner

          because the sunsets here are beautiful

          because of all the retirement homes
here’s where i saw god this week:

          on night-time concrete, while jumping, singing

          the wattlebird watching me write this

          my favourite cup shattering on the bathroom sink
i make dinner to Survivor

i get into bed with a nineteen year-old

scandinavian and his axe

he is building a log cabin from scratch

he is chipping at timber

he is knocking me asleep
i felt god in my almond magnum

that 7eleven is atop a hill

i can see the whole world

my parents tell me hello
                                                     slurp

                 there’s that final      suck

before my window                   sip

       is fully wound                    gulp

      and the citylink                  gasp

     is a world away
          there’s the fact that

          the muffle starts

before the ute hits your bonnet

                                            and then there’s ringing
i’d like to make a shrine

in my living room

but i can’t find an altar on gumtree

and my hands have been so shaky lately

and chicken wire makes me bleed
shards of shattered blue

like sledgehammer to screen

like riverbank in sweden

                    in winter and

          a strong man’s foot
when the log cabin is finished

and   the    doors    is   closed

it         will        be        airtight

it         will        be            silent
my grandmother is with white cotton now

                             and with the earth

her body will nourish the dirt and that graveyard

                              will become a mountain

                           it will be so high

 and the sunsets will be beautiful
     the muffle hits before the crash

and then there’s the bits on asphalt

the last time

i saw plastic shatter like that

it was a toy

i was twelve

i was in beirut

it was under a tyre
god saves my life every time i walk the creek and don’t fall in

          i would not drown

          i would be so stunned by the water

its yuckiness

that i would stay there forever
i found a frame

on facebook marketplace

          it’s silver

                              like my birthname

but lost its luster

                              like my birthname

the frame

is for my grandmother

for the portrait of her that i love
and i saw a photo of a heron

eating a rat

in central park

the water is brown

the rat’s body is perfect
mannequin

with arms and legs

click-locked in place

petrified like that and snapped

to stay that way

forever