If God exists, I’ll know
Because he’ll tell me how to fix
The latest knot
Within the plot of the novel
I’m working on,
He’ll be divine enough to know
Not to interfere with the poetry,
That stuff has to remain
Human, only human
In its sources and execution,
If I claimed otherwise
I wouldn’t be a poet any more,
But a prophet instead,
And I don’t want that career,
I’m not armed heavily enough
To last long on any dais,
Nevertheless, if God exists
And we’re in talks in private,
I’ll tell him I’d enjoy
A promotion to the big room
And be a writer for his show.
Because he’ll tell me how to fix
The latest knot
Within the plot of the novel
I’m working on,
He’ll be divine enough to know
Not to interfere with the poetry,
That stuff has to remain
Human, only human
In its sources and execution,
If I claimed otherwise
I wouldn’t be a poet any more,
But a prophet instead,
And I don’t want that career,
I’m not armed heavily enough
To last long on any dais,
Nevertheless, if God exists
And we’re in talks in private,
I’ll tell him I’d enjoy
A promotion to the big room
And be a writer for his show.
Ben Nardolilli currently lives in New York City. His work has appeared in Perigee Magazine, Red Fez, Danse Macabre, The 22 Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Elimae, fwriction, Inwood Indiana, Pear Noir, The Minetta Review, and Yes Poetry. He blogs at mirrorsponge.blogspot.com and is looking to publish a novel.
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