Fall 2009 / Issues / Poetry 2009 / Volume 40

His Early Promise Unfulfilled — Bruce McRae

God spat an ocean, shat the Alps,

pissed torrents and waterfalls,

God wasn’t beautiful and frightened

the curly-headed kiddies and nuns.

God drove by in a beat-up rust-bucket,

whistling and shouting and waving a gun.

God played the spoons and bummed quarters

by the entrance to the liquor store.

He planted timebombs in the hearts and minds

of orthodontists and city officials.

What a character! A right barrel of laughs.

Like the time he threw up all over Jupiter.

And the practical jokes; you’ve seen his platypus.

And the plagues of his miserable temper.

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