I envision burning red skies

raining down charred bones

upon fleeing congregations

whose gods failed them


I find myself roasting

in a dug out where my own skin

blisters under the weight of heat

that would crush hell itself


I don't know how to tell

the distant voices trying to roust me

that I cannot tolerate this situation

but must because it is required


I look God squarely into His serpent eyes

and say 'ready when you are' as if anything else were possible








Content (c) 2008-2016 Philip Milito.