Eating a bag of breadsticks with dipping sauces
did not produce the spiritual satisfaction I’d hoped for.
You can say “that was your first mistake”
but honestly it couldn’t’ve been, my memory
can’t even delve that deep. There were two
cribs in a room and my brother in the other and
I climbed out of mine and grinned at him
and this was all pre-verbal. Or when he was enthused
to see me home from preschool so I punched him
in the arm. Oh Brother of Mine, I was a Dick to you
so often, but, you know . . . likewise. Lettuce prey
over Texas-sized beans and barbecued beasts
in this summer of your big back yard
and swimming pool. I think
we should all focus on our own shame
without encouraging each others’. I think
I’m no closer to knowing the Will of God
just because I believe again, in, how shall I put it,
His ubiquity. I love the word “ubiquity.”
It should be included in the Lord’s Prayer.
Give us this day Your Ubiquity. Forgive us
our death gasses as we forgive the etched asses
of those who retch glad against us. Give us.
Forgive us. Thine is the Power and the Glory
and the So On. Forever and Ever and ever
(and ever and ever). Amen.
Steve Henn is the author of Indiana Noble Sad Man of the Year (Wolfson Press, 2017). He teaches high school English and dads it up. His heroes include Kurt Vonnegut, Bob Hicok, and Jack Musgrave.