All night, Oh God
you hold my eyes
open
My thoughts crawl
like the sea
restless, restless
My skin is a mouth
I want to cut open
de profundis, Oh Lord
At 3 A.M. I call to you
*
from the darkened kitchen
I call to
you
from the heaped sink
I call to you
sticky and swarming
I call to you
Oh God, my God
in tubes and tight-cornered sheets
in paper slippers
I call to you
the room of tight faces
I call to you
Oh God, I call to you
in day-old bread
and past-due bills
I call to you
in the stink of pennies
held in the palm
Lord, someone is knocking
Oh God, here I am
having bad sex
here I am
on a blank road
here I am
with a shut heart
here I am
listening
*
By a pillbox, one soldier leans
The sky is heavy and stirring
The sea is heavy and stirring
No light for his night watch
No words in the salt crash
Time clots like an old wound
like a beast of shadow
But he stands
listening, listening
Oh Lord, open the world
in lightning, let the thunder sing
between sea and sky
Let the rim of air turn hard
and rain with arrows
Let them say – Look!
where He walks on the water
Look! a door
in the sea
End this night
in violence
suddenly
Or draw me to you
like the dawn
rose and silent
______________________
A revision of this poem. I'm thinking about taking out that "day-old bread" stanza. I need to have it done nowish, though.
Beautiful. I think the poem would be fine without the day-old bread stanza (the bits around it flow together well). But I like the stink of pennies bit, maybe save it for something else?
Week-old bread?
The more I read your poem, the more I think the stanza about "day-old bread" fits. The day-old bread may be more realistically dry old bread. To me it spoke of how we need God in the poverty of our situations and some of those are monetary - past-due bills and whatever is left in the cupboard.