May Poem 7

Man, a holy vessel, through his mind,

Lingered a second too long

On each human, the other goon, me.

But the goon landed his for the remission

Of the collar this time.

God in his or her own right, a calf of gold,

Heard a knock on the window.

 

I am a loving God as is easily surmised

Down on the goon’s clothes.

And as a loving God I am accepting

Of the goon’s legs.

 

Again, he pulled for sins. However,

There are still those that will persist in

Breaking like this:

This isn’t the post office,

The dry powerful.

 

This must also be my will.

Lefty, the goon, stood head and shoulders

And was wholly separate and different.

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