BRENDAN
CONSTANTINE
Heretical Poem
My friend Robert wonders
if God
is the green light inside
the escalator.
I haven’t asked my
neighbor, but
judging by his t-shirts,
he thinks God
is a seagull trapped in a
rainbow.
I heard my Greek
grandmother say
the word a few times; once
when
she burned her wrist on a
stove
and again, softly, when I
dyed
my hair blue. It was a
long time
ago and even God was
younger.
My mother believes in
something,
she says, even though
everything
points against it. My
father believes,
devoutly, in fact, that
everyone
is equally wrong. This
wrongness,
he says, is divine.
Sometimes,
when I’m driving, I speak
aloud
to the empty seat next to
me.
I ask questions, make
demands,
and rehearse what I would
say
to the past. If that isn’t
a prayer
I don’t know what is.
Unless your
picture facedown on the
dresser
is one. The cup I set on
it yesterday.
The hard sugar that
survived the tea.
Brendan Constantine is the author of four books of poetry. His work has appeared in Best American Poetry, Poem-a-Day, Prairie Schooner, Poetry Daily, Tin House and many other journals. He has received support and commissions from the Getty Museum, James Irvine Foundation, and the National Endowment for the Arts. He currently teaches at the Windward School and, since 2017, has been developing poetry workshops for people with Aphasia.
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