little you
hiding in closets and under chairs
hearing his voice
rising up and up and up
crashing like thunder
standing over you he looks like
zeus drunk off ambrosia
wild-eyed and red-cheeked
his flails and slashes
do you remember how it used to be?
even before he became a ghost he
haunted you
before you could speak your own words you
quoted your mother
told your dreams in poems
tried to forget about the god up on the mountain
waiting to send another lightning bolt your way.
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