These are pastures

Fideistic Soth Mommy;
or,
What Makes the World Go Parr-Shaped

God is a grouper
God is a fish, like a mother
with a word in its mouth
like a coin

The world is many-tongued
The group is a bucket of
taste buds with like-hands groping
for something to favor

A group seeks a flavor
A god is a savor
A word is a coin
that belongs to the seizer

I am is a coin swallowed
by a fish that is the world
A belly-berthed profit
A vomited token

Spoken from many minted mouths
We coin the word “Current-Sea”
The cost of following God
A drop in the ocean all over the map

🐟