Lamb

God Forgets. He leaves the iron on and your beautiful city
burns to the ground. God touches you and you are it.
Alone In A Desert Of Ash is a difficult game to win. Home
base is flame and smoke. Once God said Hunger. Once
he said luck, and how could we tell him
we'd figured it out on our own.
I'm waiting, God, for a watermelon. Say pomegranate.
Say city, say rib. An armadillo to sniff at my feet. It's
Armor and nothing else. Let's lift it like a mirror.
Put it to my car like a shell. God puts the ocean
in an armadillo shell. It rattles of whalebones. I remember
water, but all the cacti are black. All the sand
is glass beneath the ash, a calm buried sea.
God descends the sky like a spider. I can feel it.
He is everywhere, twiddling his thumbs.
I think he's waiting for me.

Copyright © 2007 Andrew Michael Roberts All rights reserved
from Burnside Review
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission