Rise up Job

If you ever get the suspicion
that you just might be walking
on egg shells
somewhere around
the graveyard of the nearly dead
you might be human
maybe I’m just human

or maybe I sacrificed my sanity
one too many times
and the one I don’t believe in
is out to destroy
whatever fragments
of faith I ever had

but I’m not Job
or his propensity
for letting god walk all over his feet

I don’t take that back

nor can I apologize
for not pulling out the red carpet
to curtsey
every time life steps in
during those brief minutes
when we’re able to catch our breath

because there’s an empire at work
mass-producing superman
that not everybody can be

his image is etched into prison walls
snickering at the ones who couldn’t win

If I’m victorious
thank satan

Dinner Party

pristine dinner arrangements
earlier that evening
post-poned by a shattered sliding door

and the breaking point
was at one AM
around back
sharing a fix with lucifer
the original sin
of getting less than you bargained for

and it’s all okay
that god is dead
how we’re the ones responsible
we just did what we had to do
in this mercy killing of the century

because we know the feeling
where it’s a little too hard to breathe
there’s plenty of seductive air
thrusting the body to this ridge
with a head too afraid to let go

of that weird pain
harbored privately
with a serpentine texture
hissing gently
at the ones that don’t deserve it

and it fights in the eternal crusade for happiness
biting hot and cold
a custodian of the forecast
snickering as we use chalk
to outline the bodies of snow angels
warm-blooded creatures emitting frost as currency

dinner will be served by morning