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.