TWO POEMS
How I Stopped Praying
After centuries of deferral
to the white sky cloud cover God,
who kept me on orange alert,
babbling for mercies
that were batted away sloppily
like dustballs in the wake of a sock,
I turned to the Divine Creatrix,
who built the short night, I was convinced,
and forged the shaded grove,and opened the arms of her starry kimono.
