If it starts as an asking for
Not an acceptance of,
Then what I’ve done
Is avoid the notion altogether.
God speaks through
The mirror’s reflection,
The image forced against
Itself
as the enemy
awaits surrender.
On one side of the inward-flowing river
Satan and his troops
Laugh and smoke
Around the campfires of hell.
God looks puzzled
As his son is tormented
And jeered at
About his current mistakes
And his youthful misguided missteps.
The heads of saints and sinners
Dot the clotheslines along the river bank
On wash day.
I dare not cross myself
While He (the body catholic)
is yet still hanging.
-Jim Hill (12-29-01)
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