DOING GOD'S WORK

Knowing toilet rolls should face out
Even in somebody else's house

I always put things right

Like a christian
Riding a bike

Densities 150

I say Spirit

inside the walls

the skin

behind the eyes

how to escape this dancing

corpse

before it stops dancing?

if only I could avenge a sentence

with a sentence

the hours on all fours again

looking everywhere for their trampoline

a tam tam and its microphone

a cymbal

no one can hear

Waiting for the End of the World

Frankly, I expected God to be

more efficient and avoid this savored

burning. I guess He likes it. I could see

some other kind of pain – still labored

and indelicate, with a late

lesson, all as taut as penance. But

I stand chronic, bend to supplicate,

and hold the momentary dissolute.

Where’s salvation? How do I accede

when my redemption takes parieties?

Limits disannoint the body. I plead

recrimination, an innocence that frees

Him, whose expanse grows down to me

to make my punishment infinity.

*

~Wm Frawley (posted by A. DiMichele)