“the atheist in love”

Just as he needed the sun to rise,
God instructed him
to pull down the blinds,
lock the door,
and fold his clothes in the dark dawn of dream.

Bend down like clouds. Marry the ground.
Marry the ground—
like man does for his woman; Buried so deep.
Buried so deep—
in love, in war, for power,
back inside his source finally.
Love. Love. Love conquers all.
And now he covers his breathe,
covers his breathe—
like an unpleasant biological reaction
from eating too much.
Excuse me. Excuse him,
like his woman does;
Fancy lipstick smeared on his palm
like violin strings pulled by a train.

Just as he needed the sun to rise,
God instructed him
to pull down the blinds.
So as he did,
she drew up her skirt
to adjust her garter for one final waltz
before an evening candle could ever be lit;
could ever be blown.

Bend down like clouds. Marry the ground.
The sun rises. God sighs.
Was there ever any question either event
would not happen?
For him, there was,
but not anymore. She answered them both,
and as she did, she drew up her skirt.

narrative poem written on 08-21-2010 by: on mattkane.com
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