the sun drops his knee on fog

a diurnal genuflection that

explains the lack of clarity in the prayer’s thought

when god prays to himself

using the fog’s opaque cushion

we know god is a child

who pretends to pray

because in the midst of his holy make-believe childhood

he is a beautiful version of daffodil twirling in dew

Related Poems

God Went to Beauty School

He went there to learn how
to give a good perm
and ended up just crazy 
about nails
so He opened up His own shop.
"Nails by Jim" He called it.
He was afraid to call it
Nails by God.
He was sure people would
think He was being
disrespectful and using
His own name in vain
and nobody would tip.
He got into nails, of course,
because He'd always loved
hands--
hands were some of the best things
He'd ever done
and this way He could just
hold one in His
and admire those delicate
bones just above the knuckles,
delicate as birds' wings, 
and after He'd done that
awhile,
He could paint all the nails 
any color He wanted,
then say,
"Beautiful,"
and mean it.