The Semblance of Such

How quickly

This all becomes

about the things

We’d rather not

see, a “No thank you,”

playing at our lips

Like a hand pushing

away the hors d’oeuvres.

Fat, happy, or the semblance

Of such, shot out into

The digital world,

When the real one

Is on fire–your heart can’t

Stop beating during all those

Moments you wish it would–

And if only there was a god

To believe in, you think, as

The One who made you

Reaches for your hand,

Encourages you to eat.