Friday, May 28, 2010

GODLESSNESS

The first
     sunny day 
            after Easter

the neighbor boy
     rakes through
          the brambles 

with all the patience
     of a Catholic,
          steady strokes

cleansing their yard
     of stubborn oak leaves
          and winter trash,

the trumpet vine
     and lopped roses --
          dead wood 

and snow-burnt
     grass, all gathered
          in a circle

triumphantly set
     ablaze and smoldering
          toward heaven, 

the  yard now redeemed
     by this ceremony,
          by this sacrament

of smoke and ash.
     His sister brings
          a fistful of wieners

they impale 
     on barbecue forks
          and snack on, 

burst and
     sizzled flesh.
          My penance?

To observe this 
     carnal worship, 
          this Spring sweetness,

and beg forgiveness
     for my sons and I, 
          how we raked 

our hard scrabble 
     in haste, in haughty 
          anger, shouting 

at the wind, 
     cursing our lot, 
          the very life 
          
we were borne
     into, the punishment 
          of raking.


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