Little Evening Sermon
After eight years of sunny homily, the bus driver quit
for what would turn out to be a monumental binge,
the righteous man fell through the ice and was saved
by an angel, and we could almost love each other
for eternity. Funny word, eternity. You can put it near
the end of almost any prayer and feel almost better
about sharpshooting the sweat of the evenings.
You can speed walk in circles and feel that's exactly
how Jesus would have wanted it. Look at the gyre
of marine litter in the Pacific twice the size of Texas.
Was this what you were promised? I'm sorry
it turned out to be true. But the girl really did
swallow fire on the midway, and somebody saved
the drowning man, and nights advanced against
the stars' spin and threw their feathered hats
like shadows cast backwards upon the blank-prone,
nearly invisible debris.