Idol Worship

You're moving in and you're moving
your religion with you. Our house

will smell like incense and Ma Durga
will hang on the wall, glaring at us

while we make love. She wears blood
red and gold, atop a lion, slaughtering

some demon through the heart. I joke
it's not stylish to worship ten-armed

goddesses of invincible supremity but
you don't care. You're still moving in.

On the day you arrive, I get close to
Ma Durga. I see her eyes are fixed open.

On the lion's back, her toes are curled, terrified.