At the Seat of God

At the seat of God
There is a faltering breeze
Inconstant
It balances the ancient mausoleums.

Generations here
We celebrate our linear
In concrete and marble.
Gold letters
And dusty portraits
Of gold ancestors
And their dusty counterparts

God sits here
Perched on the edge of mountain
It drops into the sea
Away
I sit on his left side –
The right is always taken.

We admire the view,
The dust
And breathe in the concrete and marble
My blood tethers me
Here on this rock
Floating in the sea
Like pumice
On the left hand of God –
His palm
We sit.