God sleeps on my floor every day. The dust bunnies grow cloud limbs and When the floor gets cold, God hugs them all To keep them warm. God refuses to sweep my floor day after day, instead, Counts the bristles in the broom, and leaves Post-It notes on my refrigerator, gregarious poetry About the beauty of clouds and geothermal energy. God repaints every room in my house every day. Sometimes the paint smells like ripe fruit. I want God to read my stories, but that never Happens. God finds talking especially inadequate. In my despair and jubilation, God sits in the corner, smiling As if hiding a secret from a long lost parable.
Posted on Monday, 9 January 2012
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