Excerpt from Hear Yourself
IF GOD
If my god is poetry she is maliciously inconsistent.
If my god is poetry they are manic-depressive for sure.
They get quiet in the winter, sad like the grass,
And rambunctious every now and then
Convinced their power could change the world.
If my god is poetry I only hear her when I am on the brink of giving up,
Or when I feel confused past expression;
I only hear her when she teases me,
Or makes obvious patterns in front of me;
I only hear her when I’m falling in love,
Or falling out of love,
Or am overwhelmed with love,
Or when I am overwhelmed with words,
With poetry, with her.
If my wife is poetry we don’t live in the same house.
She visits, unannounced, leaves gifts then wipes my memory.
She is a coy mistress, and a loyal housekeeper, and the best, most sultry
Of lovers.
But she is absent, and unreachable at times.
If my wife is poetry she left, walked out.
I tell people she went out for a cigarette
Will be back any minute;
But I have no idea where she went or for how long,
How many people she has kissed-
The more the merrier, I’m sure.
We do this, it’s our thing, she always dips
And she always comes back;
But still, it’s
Lonely.
If my god is poetry they absolutely created the universe,
But they definitely didn’t do it alone.
If my god is poetry I haven’t been praying enough.
If my god is poetry her bible writes itself;
It will never be finished, and has limitless authors,
And I, thank Poetry, am one of them.
I hear her less than her other disciples, I’m certain.
I hear her less than I wish I did, I hear her;
But does she hear me?
