Lightning Gods
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The lightning rods for timelessness, we wait
For sly eternity to strike. We wait in time
Yet immortality aims to castrate
Or drown us. Godhead can’t commit a crime.
Repeat that to yourself in days and years
You suffer through. Be Job. Accept the strokes,
The lightning strikes. No use to shed boiled tears.
Don’t let your friends or wife cajole and coax
You into puss filled doubt: the ones you love
The most are also lightning rods as doomed as you.
They’re awful chess pawns wielded from above
Against the bishops and the queens. Gods skew
Your moves and plans and aims. The voltaged bolt
Goes wham. You’re whacked before you feel the jolt.