Always the footsteps down the hall

a forewarning mewl¬†of her lover’s call

As the hallway light through the cracked door pours

on the creaking, glossy, wood-planked floors

The name spilling from her lips abhors

“Yes, daddy?”


Then the quietness in the dark returns

Little lace duvet that has been down-turned

And the sleep comes, graciously, with ease

when it’s done, and he has been appeased

Yet we still hear God’s voice in night’s breeze

True Daddy.


On meeting God

It was as though I had come to the precipice of a great plateau,

and everything lain before me was our creator.

Almost like hitting a wall,

and the wind is knocked out of you.

Almost like feeling the first kick.

Someone is there.

He is.