By BJ Love
Can we just go to a movie
and cry together? Can this be
how we finally see eye to eye?
Will this bring the people out?
It’s Saturday night, I guess
that makes it alright. We do
not yet know what is required
of us, but I got a feeling
in my gut there’ll be a blue
light and me standing naked
with nothing but a smile on.
And this we will call prayer
and it too will be so good.
Stop fascinating me, says Yahweh
stop being so fucking beautiful
all the time. Rise up and worship
me for you are my people and my
people, they know how to party.
Let us perform our marvels; bring
up the rod of God! There is joy in
repetition. There is joy in repetition.
The sun came up. Joy. The sun
goes down. Joy. The sun came
up. Joy and etcetera and so on.
The miracle wasn’t in the creation
no, the miracle is in propagation.
The rod of God. Our perpetual
aborning. New day. New day. New
day. New day and another new day.
What will happen with your hands
today is no business of Pharaoh’s.
He doesn’t get your business anymore.
BJ Love teaches English to 6th graders. Recent poems can be found in The North American Review, Hobart, and Bodega Magazine.