Rabbit God

When I first clasped your hands, I told you
about the Rabbit God; now we are in this red hall
of statues and incense pots. For too long,
the gods spun red yarn under the moon, but not
for us—eclipsed smiles, symmetrical skin soft—
until our predecessors came back from hell
to tie our knots. Concrete walls of an
inconspicuous building. Urban folklore.
The orbit farewells Rabbit this year and greets Dragon,
yet we are always here. I smile at you:
there is nothing to fear—for our gods are lenient,
they don’t punish lovers.