trinitarian genes the DNA of spilt-personality gods
I discovered mine drinking Jack & Coke chilled by a bear in a glass on ice.
My family roamed the earth a theological thesaurus
with long white teeth like Samson’s hair. You can call me, Delilah.
A scissored woman who likes her men shorn. I watched
infidel’s scatter. To privacy. Ovens. Dickinson. Plath.
Like mice, eating cheese before the steel snaps. Beckon me
from the hole in your Holies. I’ll lay you
like a trap.
Daniel Edward Moore lives in Washington on Whidbey Island. His poems are forthcoming in Lily Review, The Cape Rock, Notre Dame Review, Front Range Review, Ocotillo Review, Iron Horse Literary Review and The Blue Mountain Review. His book, “Waxing the Dents” was a finalist for the Brick Road Poetry Prize and published in 2020. His recent book, 'Psalmania' was a finalist for the Four Way Books Levis Prize in Poetry.
I went to uncle’s house after the funeral — the house was filled with water. I couldn’t see my legs once I entered. People stood on chairs to breathe. Children on their swim rings to stay alive. Every
