Fall 2010 / Issues / Poetry 2010 / Volume 41

True Miracles — Ann Struthers

The followers claimed his face glowed

with celestial light, so it was forbidden

for human hands to depict it.

Although he never claimed anything

except inspiration,

never mentioned resurrection,

yet some authorities think he’s back.

The Dalai Lama smiles as if he knows,

but he’s not telling.

Lord Vishnu says he found him incognito

wearing a Smokey Bear costume.

The Buddha thinks he’s hiding

inside the 1950s truck that purveys “gaz, gaz, gaz”

in Damascus. Behind the silver canisters

for cookers, he conducts the band that alerts

the quarter’s housewives. Louder

than the ice cream jitney, he plays “Jingle Bells,”

oh, happy tunel. He’s having a good time

after all that heavy lifting reforming a society.

The authorities could not turn him off,

“dashing through the snow” in hot, desert Syria,

amplifiers on max.

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