I Can't Help It

When I think of how many of God's
creatures have been living out
their purposes in one moment and end
up as road kill the next abrupt
moment with a thud that seems
much softer and shorter than it should be
I can't help but think about how soft
a dog's tongue is: the way it careens
out the window or the way it flaps
(but not like an American flag) in the wind
as its master moves down a country road.
I can't help but wonder
at seeing a praying mantis breathe, my face so close
to him I could almost feel the tiny exhalation
of his exoskeleton throbbing with life
his breaths impossibly small. I can't help
the nervous exhilaration of the squirrel
getting gifted to me as she frantically claws
and zips her way around me clinging my skin
and feeling the luxury of her soft fur.
I can't help but hope for the Messiah's return
and hope that just maybe pig or lamb
or horse or humming bird will open his mouth
and speak.


The first draft of this originally untitled poem was written on 10/22/17 and has only minor changes here (with a few more enjambment changes and minor punctuation changes made on 1/10/18). I don't think this is quite complete although I do like the direction.