Lord lightning crumble the lives of wicked men to salt piles
and plastic dog-shit bags amassed in flies
Then bless the rest of us even the screaming kid
the scuttles on the subway tracks
the preacher in head-to-toe Gucci crackling Genesis out a megaphone
Bless the spread-legged grandpa commuting in a humid car
the bag of hammers pressed between his feet
the lady in a sweat-through dress shirt
jolting her ordained train ride on the oily window
bless the initials etched in metal whatever happened to their love?
I believe, Lord, that we all deserve love even at our most annoying.
Bless the drills opening the roads the stuffing
coming out of your creation How you feeling today
Drilled open, invaded Somewhere her rapist eats breakfast
Somewhere her rapist kicks bottles on the sidewalk
There is time she can’t remember she walks haloed in rage
the year ripples new lines around our mouths Lord I bore you
with solicitations I have no other higher power to plead with
Please do not spare that man send fires wherever you find him.