God Is a New Anchor Dipped into the Sea

I was surrounded by good things,
curtains of wake: do gods

abide barnacles
afraid of immensity

I couldn’t get my bearings
until I touched bottom, self-sabotaged

newly sucking their iron
god-mother, suckling

shine in the slip of water?—a god
is a dipped thing,

but the bottom
rang my bones;

I saw shapes in my pain
tethered to cloud.

it need not be a straight course
I lifted               when I was ready to feel weight,

ho! to be faithful.
powerful hook:

is this aching, exuberant steel
the eye of the world?