“And it is not fine for gods to menace fools,”
you said, and I was too sheepish to answer,
instead looking down at my
ragged fingernails that
had dirt
caked beneath them.

I did not
know if you were complimenting me
and scolding me at the same time,
comparing me to a god and
lowering yourself to a fool
or—

if you were insulting me,
calling yourself the god
and telling me I am a fool,
as it should have been.
As it should have been.

So I avoided your eyes and simply
stared at my callused hands,
for lack of anything better
to do.