Laying Future

The rabbit laid her nest’s foundation

in the place the dog takes his morning roll,

twisting on his back and kicking up a canine prayer,

offering his vulnerable belly to his Alpha god.

The rabbit’s kits, if ever born, would prove

the dog’s snack, quickly gulped and gone.

The mother never knew the ground she sought

was tainted with the dog born with canine

teeth and lives their rule. He can’t help it,

nor can she in the desire to lay her future.

You live between the rabbit and the dog,

laying future’s foundation in another's yard,

instinct acting on the next minute’s breath,

next beat of the heart, next impulse to craft

a vulnerable prayer that your kits may live

unharmed in the roll of morning’s call.

The Day You Wanted Rain

The day you wanted rain, the dog wouldn’t shut up—

dog wisdom had cracked the Labrador knob of his skull

and forced its way out in loyalty to his humans.

We let him in and told him to lie down,

maybe he took that as a sign we accepted his call.

The day you wanted rain, the bird continued its chatter,

taking cues from the dog to make more noise than usual,

but it was only noise, the brain of a bird is miniscule

in comparison. And with its feet in the trees, not grounded

in the knowledge that seeps up from crevices of stone.

The day you wanted rain, the oak, eager in its height, stretched

hopeful leaves to wrestle pale sunlight from the cloud’s

avarice that falsely believed its storm-black center can pull

light, like a magnet, into itself. Its power is fleeting

unlike the deep rooted longevity of the oak.

The day you wanted rain, we should have stayed in bed,

allowing the dog to bark down the bird that clung

to the oak’s branches. Under the covers, fooled

by the darkness of the clouds that sunrise was late,

we could create our storm with natural causes.

Quantum Physics of Worry

You’d create worries out of dust mites

or pocket lint if God didn’t provide them.

Each breath awaits the inhaling of problems
that fill your frantic air with the energy

of the distraught.  Sisyphus had an easy time

with only a single task—the damned rock

upon an equally damned hill. That’s Hades—

this is earth, bound by the multiplier effect

of quantum physics and universal parallels

of an infinite number of worries that spin

threads through neurons of your brain

until all creation floods the synapse

with hopeless trials of control. Dark matter

doesn’t care.  Why strain the effort

when the mites and lint trust God?

Left Out America

Blame it on birth, the last born gets leftovers,

the hand-me-downs that continue into adulthood,

always the poor relation watching discarded TVs

and driving worn through cars. Only the food is new—

who eats gently used food? Not that you haven’t

tried to find a way, gullible to the lies from teachers

and, in Fourth Commandment* awkwardness, other authorities,

as if right guides to find a life better left behind.

Their dreams aren’t yours, but the courage that heals,

promised by Jesus, lies far away. Cast them off your back

like a harness too heavy before you’re left to bear the guilt

while muttering the hymn, “Heaven is My Home,” the solace

of the put-upon because without it you’d collapse

like Job, bearing on your lips the curse of being born.

*From the Small Catechism of Martin Luther:

"The Fourth Commandment: Honor your father and mother. What does this mean? We should fear and love God so that we do not despise or anger our parents and other authorities, but honor them, serve and obey them, love and cherish them."

How Far

can a poem go when set free

from the end of my graphite scratching

to inchworm in search of other eyes?

Does it hunger freedom,

or am I the master, kicking

it out of bed too soon,

a chrysalis torn from cocoon—

ugly and half-formed,

a useless thrash of words,

a pitiful and hideous attempt?

Can our hopes match father to son

without the comfort

of the Holy Ghost?

What if shyness stops the poem

in two dimensions—height and width,

never allowing depth to dry

its wings of pages and so glide

freely across open eyes.