Listen to the world’s best poetry read out loud.

for AS who wonders about ishta devtas

It’s about learning to trust 

the tug 

that draws you to a shadowed alcove 

undisturbed 

by footfall 

and butter lamps, 

a blue-dark coolness 

where you find him 

waiting patiently, 

that perfect minor deity – 

shy, crumbly, 

oven-fresh, just a little 

wry, content to play a cameo 

in everyone’s life but your own. 

A god who looks 

like he could understand 

errors in translation, 

blizzards on the screen, 

gaps in memory, 

lapses in attention, 

who might even learn by rote 

the fury, 

the wheeze, 

the Pali, 

the pidgin, 

the gnashing mixer-grinder, 

the awkward Remington stutter 

of your heart, 

who could make them his own. 

After that you can settle for none other.