Friday Morning - Noaa Rienecker
Head wrapped like moses,
crusty palms turned upward
to meet the falling sky
Donut shop prophet cackles
At a joke no one seems
To be in on
Who knows how damp
He’ll be today, in this
Twenty-four hour twilight
Who knows how damp
He’ll know today, palms up
Invoking some obscure god
He laughs at the torrential show,
Unimpressed, oblivious,
Or both
Or neither, I have no way
Of understanding
Wrath or ecstasy
If I think I see it
In his face. For all I know,
He is the one
Who has been severing
pigeon heads and
placing them in our toilet.
crusty palms turned upward
to meet the falling sky
Donut shop prophet cackles
At a joke no one seems
To be in on
Who knows how damp
He’ll be today, in this
Twenty-four hour twilight
Who knows how damp
He’ll know today, palms up
Invoking some obscure god
He laughs at the torrential show,
Unimpressed, oblivious,
Or both
Or neither, I have no way
Of understanding
Wrath or ecstasy
If I think I see it
In his face. For all I know,
He is the one
Who has been severing
pigeon heads and
placing them in our toilet.