Allyson Jeffredo’s Even Gods explores the transmutability of holiness, finding divinity in contrasts, “cars idle besides a busy road,” “a ghost… a hand directing”, and as the feminine: “god only makes sense as a woman / pressed against brick.”
Daring, captivating, and oh so tender, Even Gods paints desire as a dream of water, “her thirst / so hard to quench,” fixating on letting, on letting go.
there is power behind these letters—no
a whisper, a command—sketch us as
small gods or giants or mothers
each time she asks the weather
to act right, it doesn’t listen, but no
one laughs, we turn into gods
behind her back, still in her image
god only makes sense as a woman
with her back pressed against brick
her arm, her hip left burned—even gods are damaged
