I don’t pray much anymore.
I squint my eyes when I do,
and concentrate, thriving,
striving.
I’ve become Ahab, determined
to find the Great White
Omnipotence
That soon will consume my
so-called soul and leave my
body, rotting like a whale’s
jaw under
the earth.
I’ve nailed my gold coin to
post several times—thrown it
into the offering plate more,
a ticket into
heaven they say.
He’ll hunt me down—toss me
into the water, watch me die as
my vexed waters devour my time,
comparable time.
And the rest of the world will
watch from atop my coffin,
next to Ishmael,
on a buoy floating in the collective
death of the
human race.
No comments:
Post a Comment