i don’t have to call you a god

i don’t have to call you a god
to respect you,
when i nod back to your flash
of orange, yellow and green,
hints of red that is enough,
when i promise not to catch you
with sticky traps and leave you
gasping in the night’s dew,
along with a palmetto bug,
a couple fellows of yours
and a taciturn anole,
that is enough,
when the sky does something
to light you so that i may see
your camouflage, and we eye one another
from the distance of two houses,
that is enough
when your stare lets me know
you’re there as my glance
tries not to frighten you,
you shy divine,
that is enough for me,
but for everyone, no,
they will throw your body
onto the sidewalk
to see it squirt and flatten,
that is enough for them
because they want,
joy of joys,
to see blood,
god or no god.