← v13n1, Spring 2014
Poetry · Volume 13, Number 1

Of Religion

Each being: an instrument of His?

The herons chase minnows at

His behest? The dog fights

his new collar (one strap

behind the ears, loop around nose)

to teach us some new tricks

regarding anger and patience?

Consider this our world’s center:

roiling, balled-up mass of

tentacle upon tentacle, a sideways

globe-sized eye—

~

The second before the gunman

makes his intentions believable:

there—that face—no happiness.

Understanding is nothing more

than the brain at the middle of it

all, peacefully asleep.

Are we, then, the dream?