Fire One Morning

Was it for nothing that the blueberry
      In the backyard,
            Its fruit consumed,
      Its year’s growth pruned,
            Caught fire one morning?
I took off my shoes, there in the kitchen,
    Beholding it aflame.

Is this newfound bioluminescence?
      Can a shrub throb with photons
            As surely as neon waves,
      Plankton, a lampshade jelly,
            The lure of a dragonfish,
Alive with luciferin like foxfire
    That startles campers awake?

All life must glow, as dewdrops on a fern,
      The shimmer of scales
            On a fritillary wing,
      Mucosal sheen of a passing slug.
            If the paper-skin of the deceased
Can be translucent, then a blueberry
    Bush may burn yet not be consumed.

Light is not light unless compared to dark,
      And so my squinting
            At the world, charged as it is,
      Is for the dullness of my soul.
            What sparkles through the glass
So dimly may be glory, or it may
    Be the devil, crouching at the door.

Marriage, or Talking to Myself

The Bible says
   A man and his wife
      Become one flesh and that
         Must include the brain as well as
      The heart and all the rest
   Perhaps this is why
Our eyes always
   Meet in mutual
      Recognition of the
         Crude cruel funny and sad and
      Why we laugh and cry at
   The same time maybe
That’s why we have
   Ended up liking
      All the same foods and same
         Movies and music and have
      Generally become
   Inseparable
Not in the so
   Sappy romantic
      Sense which usually
         Is meant by that word but just
      A simple statement of
   The fact that after
So many years
   There really isn’t
      A distinctive you and
         Me and even when you’re not
      Here you don’t won’t rub off
   This is probably
Why most of the
   fights that we’ve had with
      Each other in truth have
         Been fights with myself steady
      Internal dialogue
   That slowly flows down
To acceptance
   Pooling into faith
      In jumped-to conclusions
         And a brave face toward the world.

Voicemail

dear god,

i tried to call satan the other day.
nobody answered, so i left a voicemail,
i hope that’s all right. 

i don’t really need a call back,
just some curses for my enemies,
not so much to kill them or anything,
but a little nudge to scare them straight.

i’d normally ask you for this, god,
but you seem busy, or at least
i think you only want us to talk to you
about personal problems like sin,
or sickness, or salvation and stuff.

i know you’re all about mercy and grace, but,
frankly you seem a little wishy-washy
on vengeance and violence, or so I’ve been told.

sure there’s stuff in the bible
about people asking you to smash
some babies from babylon on the rocks,
and david wanted you to send blindness
and seizures on the guys who were chasing him.
maybe you heard him, i don’t know,
since he was a king and all.
do you really want me to bug you about this?
it all seems more in satan’s lane. 

i called him one time before,
trying to score some personal advice on
something you said i probably shouldn’t do.
he didn’t answer then, either.
i guess he was with another customer?
that seems like something he’s pretty good at,
helping people be their best selves.
i think he really just wants to be like you,
you know, but with his own special style. 

i tried to call satan the other day,
but the phone just rang and rang.
i guess maybe he’s busy, too. besides,
i don’t really need his help to do my own thing.

Morning

A sweetgum is silhouetted
        against the east cream-sky, leaves like
                star-shaped kids’ cereal sogging
In forgotten milk.

Weathered, brittle plastic toys lie
        scattered in the backyard glowing
                in faint beatific rose light
For a little while.

The house sits quiet and languid
        as the summer air outside feels
                like a held breath, waiting to burst
Out, then in again.

When the kids wake, the spell will be
        broken, but for the time being,
                the world itself seems possible,
Open, blank, watching.

Maybe today’s news won’t happen,
        and all is cream and roses and
                God is standing back of it all
                        Breathing, “It is good.”

Image: Appalachian Sunrise, Watauga County, N.C., July 2018.