“To an Unkind God”
(to A.W., for his inspiration)
You, whose face never turned toward me,
You, whose wrath lay always at my heels,
You, whose love, oft professed,
Never felt,
Lay crawling as a dying dog,
In muck and shit
Begging for scraps from an owner’s table
You who profess to make worlds
Lie among them,
A beggar among filth
That you think you created.
No, you are no god,
And I cannot serve a king with no crown.
Destructive Anachronism 