May we join hands around the dinner table
to pray for our kids who are running across the kitchen
so fast we can only catch them as shrapnels
before the blast as rock salt grains
before the snow although we have asked
them to stay if they were here
we would tell them to look up into
the sky amidst cicadas’ screeching applause
the final firework display for our humankind
This eve as we are together we would like to give
thanks for the food on our table the clothes on our
skin the roof above our heads and most importantly the failed promise
of an apple sinned not by a woman but our dream to reach for
any apple in the cosmos hence shadows between grocery aisles
we have taken for granted hence piles of chicken heads singing so briefly
we mistake them for dawn hence pockets of sunlight in which
our fingertip reaches closer to god’s but stumbles upon fossils of the
anthropocene epoch before it is too late we would like to give thanks for
the debt we owe in the name of civilization balanced out
as space debris return to their sleep on our bed in nuclear timescales
Loving father please guide us so close to the windowsill we feel the
warmth of this planet’s fireplace and melt like ice which
will bring life to antarctica’s blooming lest we forget we
were beautiful in your image once lest we forget millions of redwoods
will not our enduring empire will snow spores on
our decaying guts and hopefully there will be pills for us to remember
delivered straight to our doorsteps because will we remember anything
but to work hard have fun and make history
Loving son please on the chemtrail highway toward eden never
look back accelerate on the axis mundi like microplastics
traveling through the countdown hourglass of our burden
for having failed you even if you slip even if all is proven to be futile
may we join hands to celebrate your kingdom your will on earth as it
is on heaven
Loving spirit as you burst through our poetry as a reminder
of your animistic existence please tuck us in warmly and as children again
maybe this is nothing but a folktale told next to a fireside
Maybe then we will be less craven. Amen. Amen. And a-men.
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