God's Hands are Indigo

by Anya Millard

God’s hands are indigo
Dripping mysterious liquor
Slipping and gliding in waves down delicately powerful wrists

Angels with faces just like my own swallowed in a shallow silver sea 
They rain down applause from the heavens
paint me in lavender, lilac, mountain majesty
Cerulean, cornflower, robin’s egg
Navy, violet, and magenta

Liars’ colors
A celestial celebration of carefully cultivated artifice

Good God, conscience is a pitiful thing!
It warbles and flickers intermittently, dancing on radio waves
but There, in the pounding heart of radio-conscience (first time caller, long time listener) 
i see it once, twice, then never again

Indigo
Purer than God, more corrupt than man

Indigo 
And I am free