o.

by kvennarad

“Psalms out of Africa,
..sung sotto; compel me
..to make plane places

..rough, and I’ll rebel;
..one more god dragged
..across the stage in a

..basket, the fake sound
..of thunder – read what’s
..on my board, life here!”

:

..The profanity we call light
..sauces our thin bread, the
..top of all we see, the land
..we eat, the river we drink,
..the salt on the air such a
..taste on our breath; click
..– on with the cold kitchen
..spotlights! – our light does
..not meld, shows our faces!

:

You hear the angelus bell,
a muscle memory stronger
than piety reaches for the

rosary; a near miss, chaos
overtakes the ritual; this is
the moment of life – yes! –

now you know that reason
is brutal, that chance turns,
twists, leads a million steps.

__________

jupiter©Marie Marshall

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