This Sunday, the prayer involves
hoping the kitchen sink repair holds;
being raised in a small town
of too many churches, I was taught
all divine petitions should be specific
especially those that involve plumbing.
Following scripture, I pray alone
knees on linoleum, head bowed
and in the cabinet as I wrestle this devil
of a P-trap. After all
heaven helps those who DIY — right?
The sermons are not clear on this point
but a 2nd pilgrimage to the hardware store
might offer the proper revelation.
Tag Archives: sonnet
“no Ygeorgi we are not being blown off course
no Ygeorgi we are not being blown off course
from the face of the earth. what dreams you have,
staring out on the white-capped waves
praying for another annihilation
that will not come —
or at least, not like that. save such dire visions
for the fire and brimstone crowd
those sandwich board preachers
with their cowbell invocations
and lost and scattered congregations
too scared to embrace a new sun
or to walk on a new Earth
to live a new day even as we know
this one will set in a few hours.
an epiclesis over America’s Test Kitchen
a brief respite, today: the sweet distraction
of the domestic, a Sunday afternoon
laundry and garbage and the futility
of hauling recycling to the curb; she cooks
between our short bursts of energy for chores
the cadence of letting the dogs out and in
and I sit in my chair, smoke my pipe
thinking about replacing the dead
flourescent light above the kitchen sink,
repairing again the sink, and more laundry
and moving winter gear
upstairs, and the high water dropping
and what Monday will look like
as the TV chef prepares chicken scampi
