Calhoun and Benedict
Thought each a Saint,
While unto God
They shared complaint:
The Word so contradictory
Requires flipping history.
“We walk alone,
The two of us.
A lot of roaches
And choking dust.
No inhabitants
For us to preach,
Best we be deaf
With lack of speech.
We’ll wander
With the zero-ones,
For the hell of it
Dig up their guns.
Metal arms of war
And ignoble pride,
Now look at them
Their empty pride.”
Benedict bowed down
Then began to hum,
While Calhoun mumbled
By deaf and dumb.
No people to revere
Their Godly strides,
After the bombing
And Godless lies.
Both walked the desert
And scorned the Sun:
“When does this end
Become begun?”
Ciera S. Louise Aug. 20-28, 2008