In Him

“Blessed shall he be who takes your little ones and dashes them against the rock!” Psalm 137:9

Oh look,

A pluckable

Piece of universe!

Let’s take it and run,

Free alas, from unmade beds

Dusty floors, and angry fathers

With belts and mothers with hands

Wringing grime out of dirty glass children

Stained with breaking when they start to run

Shattering, soaking the world with themselves

Waiting to be swept up by lonely and angry men

Drawn back as boys and girls break over and over again

His broom whips and scorns the jagged edges on the dirty ground,

Sweeping them up into wordless voids like dustpans to dirty trash bins

Where we’ll never escape from his garbage, broken pieces of ourselves lost