Shade in the water

We're forced together by little hypocrisies -
On the passionfruit sores of our straining bodies
White mold from too little summer grows,
And I look at God - my senses bend under his weight
His eyes are wide and jaundiced in their sockets -
He's wind-gutted, tossed in a sky higher than himself,
And truly I'd rot out the heart of any angel
If I could, death, dearth of fulfilled promises,
Another shade of milk, another shade suspended in the water.