Catechism

“Long live Iguana,” shouts the rain, 
“His spines are godly reticules, his temple in the green mush 
Is small and holy, weird. His fingernails 
Are sickness and his flesh ungood to eat. He will permit 
No termites or any small rodents.” The rain doesn’t know 
What she’s talking about. A codex in Forgottendom has this 
To blame: “Do not go into his temple lightly. It is not belong 
to him . . . defend it . . . [Iguana] and . . . curse” 
This poem is over. 
Reticule, radical, catechetical— 
Permit no gods but the jungly ones.