Rendering

I’ve a new business to start this week,
My wife has a pain in her heel,
My son’s wagon needs a new wheel,
My daughter’s got an aching tooth,
Our horse is limping on one hoof.
With all this and more weighing us down,
We are going to worship the emperor today.

The ox tripped and broke a horn;
A cart full of grapes in the ditch.
The rains didn’t come through this year;
The wheat dried up without much crop.
The rabbits ate half my turnips,
And the foxes aren’t too hungry, so
We are going to worship the emperor today.

They say that Rome is thriving,
That the frontiers are expanding,
That denarii go up daily,
That the colosseum is full,
That the rebels in Judea,
Had their temple duly razed. That’s why
We are going to worship the emperor today

Incense doesn’t cost all that much,
And it smells pretty good most days,
But I’m beginning to wonder
How much good it does anyway.
The emperor’s not too stable,
Or well, the old gods seemed nicer, but
We are going to worship the emperor today.

The fire was a long time back,
And Nero’s died in the meantime.
Old Vespy keeps his fiddle tuned,
So as to dull the people’s cry.
My friend got crucified Tuesday,
But as for me and my house, you see,
We are going to worship the emperor today.

Image courtesy of Classical Numismatic Group, CC BY-SA 3.0

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.

Image: Cemetery oaks, West Feliciana Parish, La., June 2016.

Morning

A sweetgum is silhouetted
        against the east cream-sky, leaves like
                black stars against inverted space,
Absorbing all light.

Weathered, brittle plastic toys lie
        scattered in the backyard, glowing
                in faint beatific rose rays
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.

In Praise of Ice

Little in Creation fascinates like ice.
Cold and hard, yet exuding
Action and personality like the liquid it was and will be.
Temporal, temperamental, silently withdrawing
Quickly as it forms.

In innumerable phases, shaped by circumstance and
Constantly thereby changed. At turns
Brutal, beautiful, dreary, delicate, insulating, insufferable.
On it projected frustration, need, and wonder.
Warmth is blessed, but to be icy is no shame.

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Original photographs by the proprietor.