faith in nothing

thinking it’s safe to breathe again but

the sunlight hurts your eyes

the surface is frozen

god on the lake bottom

next to the firstborn child and we
are tired of digging

fifty years getting nowhere is just

one way to describe this
irrelevant civil servant’s life

too much work trying to

think up ay others

let the sad little bastard die

so we can pick up our shovels again
and he is thinking this sounds
like a plan

he is hoping the

poem will grow into a tree
                              but no

all it can ever be is the shadow of a

tree falling across the windswept
snow, and what about all of
that wasted time between the
hangover and the beginning
of the next buzz?

what about your father’s reasons

for leaving your mother?

for driving off the bridge?

suspended against the bright blue

sky for one small infinite moment
then he falls like the weight of
god and smashes everything