Upstairs, God’s dragging
the dining room table
across the clouds. The earth’s a fallen
crumb. Bolts of hunger
arch across the roof.
I fear a war has found me.
No highways, no skyscrapers
dull this Atlantic—
the backyard drowned in green.
Upstairs, God’s dragging
the dining room table
across the clouds. The earth’s a fallen
crumb. Bolts of hunger
arch across the roof.
I fear a war has found me.
No highways, no skyscrapers
dull this Atlantic—
the backyard drowned in green.