jellyfish religion

i always find a way to worship. 
fill the sink with fireflies or 
draw a face on the ceiling 
above the bed. i wake up with
a tick on my thigh. he is gorgeous
& i almost let him keep drinking.
when i was small my father would
paint the ticks with nail polish
to get them to fall off. i sometimes
mistook them for gems. 
i cut him in half though & his
little parable concludes with a drain
& gushing water. 
i drive to the nearest aquarium 
to witness a tube of jellyfish. they pulse
& i try to talk to them. none 
are interested & so i bring offerings
to the glass. a doll & a pile of my hair.
they are too busy being gods
to have time to bother with me.
i keep my truths in little ziploc baggies 
like sandwiches. fill the freezer to the roof.
i wake up so early that it is not
the next day, the day has just grown
a lovely velvet twin. i think if the jellyfish.
how years ago i swam out to the sandbar
& found myself surrounded. i had 
a chance then to join them. i chose
to take the wild swim back to shore.
i was not stung even once. they spared me
& i do not know why. their bodies
like breaths. on the right nights 
i swear they fill the windows. i dress
in jewels of ticks. walk on clouds.
join them, a slip of kelp in the tide.