Today's poem is by David Hernandez
The oversized pink donut fashioned on the roof
reminds me of the hole in the ozone dilating
above Antarctica, above the clueless penguins
wobbling over blue ice. Gets me thinking about
rings and holes in general, a life preserver tossed
from a yacht into the frothing waters where
someone's head once bobbed. About inner tubes
and nooses. About halos, glowing like white neon
over the heads of angels swarming around
a benevolent being. Benevolent and powerless
or else another day for the man consumed by waves
to sip a martini on deck. Or else merciful hands
to stitch closed the ozone's wound. Ergo,
God's a hole in the sky, big as the O in Oblivion.
To get from I don't believe to I believe, one must
jump through many hoops garlanded with flames.
Or one hoop, unlit and inches off the ground.
I don't know. My reasoning has more holes
than a colander as I wobble across the iceberg
of life's meaning, clueless as the next guy
who happens to be stepping out of the donut shop
carrying a dozen. Wish I had one. Glazed
or chocolate. One that dusts my lips and powders
the floor like snow shaken off a crow's wings.
Copyright © 2017 David Hernandez All rights reserved
from The Book of Donuts
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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