WHATEVER CANNOT STAND THE FIRE

There are things

that don't make 

sense,

you know,

and you have to know

because my brain encompasses

a brief space within

my skull.

I think of the Midian

women and

their children

and their wickedness

but their wickedness

was like their scent—

it was the only thing

they knew.

And then came the sword,

the death plunge,

the final straw,

and what do you possibly

think about

when the secondhand stops

and the face of God

is sorry more than 

you could

ever

possibly

be?