SLAM!

God as a Dog

Once when I was only eight
a neighbor dog I bent to pet
rose and put his open jaw
on half my face. This is my fate:
never to suspect the hot, wet
breath, the huge panting maw

of whatever it is that lies in wait
next to amaze me. I aid and abet
the universe in its gewgaw
displays of a power that can't abate:
garnet tongue, black as jet
dripping gums, ivory teeth. Awe
makes me stand perfectly still.

No Jonah in the mouth of the great
whale, to be swallowed whole yet
emerge wise, I am still as raw
as the child I stood then, late
in the afternoon, sun to set
soon, blood red, on all I saw.

Why, I ask, and when will I sate
the god that consumes me? I whet
the same hunger that finds its law
in me--not blood lust, no, not hate--
but a taste for bittersweet regret.
No scar marks my eternal flaw,
yearning for the last light to spill….

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