by Alexis Romano
I have seen God
in his bed
smoking a cigar, cackling
at my life, my jokes.
Good luck, Alexis.
Among the fathers I cry
for God: drunk as a fly
to reach into me, pull out my heart and
eat it.
Oh, you suffering Alexis!
God sees me
calling for home
calling for fathers
cleaning a room full of flies
and he says, Alexis, don’t look at me.
God, I see you poking your
head through the clouds, no!
I see you: a drooling white-bellied man
sitting on a toilet and
wishing you were dead
wishing you were dead
