math class god

we were the ones that survived, the
statistical anomalies: the accident
of genetics and the last man on earth

    --you are the math priest and the lover
of every single sequin and You calculated well
the best bullets to swallow
to send your cerebellum spinning

I am the automaton, dunked like a witch
in a ceramic grave too shallow
to know if i floated, but permanently cured
of any illusions about the metal i'm made of

    i was that bullet when you
bit the trigger because
i've always had to serve your motivations

and you were the water
lifting flakes of living rust
because you've always been my situation

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