Then He Asks Me For A Prayer

it won’t be long

the Japanese death garden sings wildly
across the world

I whistle back, a soft. black tune
and lose my eyes to winter

I sleep with her on desperate nights,
her hard skin teaches me
God’s lessons.

I am a body of ache for men to pour their
pain into, she tells me how to behave.
I cry that I am to be a desert,
I am naked, on my way there.

She holds me quick, against her cold
and blows me into prayer,
I lay deep in hell, but I swear, God touches me here.

He reaches through me and pulls
out a song. He whispers,  “it won’t be long”
then asks me, again, for prayer.


10 thoughts on “Then He Asks Me For A Prayer

  1. I like your poem. But I also like how you state, ‘I exist on Facebook’. I like both these things. But in real life, not with the button. I guess I have to give you a like with the button now, too. Here you go.

  2. Hello, Maggie! We share middle names, if Mae is yours. I like this piece, especially, the line “It won’t be long.” A hero of the Jewish people said “If I make my bed in hell, Thou art there.” So many of us meet God there.
    Here’s to Your Health!

    1. Hi Evelyn. Thanks for stopping by. I appreciate the comment. I agree with you!! So many of us meet God there. 🙂 XOXO Thanks again, friend!


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