Читать книгу Stony the Road - Harold J. Recinos - Страница 23

we looked for god on

Rikers Island getting

stabbed in his sleep,

with ex-dealers in cages

getting GEDS, pocketing

a certificate of completion

for spoken word classes,

or talking on the cellblock

with Tarzan.

we looked for god making

water into wine at the liquor

store, on the moist faces of

dope sniffing kids, in the alley

behind the abandoned

building on Simpson Street

at night taking a good old

wino piss.

we looked for god at the

Ortiz Funeral home where

bitter eyes wept for little

Carmen beaten into silence

by her pimp, in the Gideon

bible Tito lifted at the Days

Inn where his grandmother

cleans all day long.

we looked for god in the

shadows flitting across the

faces of junkies who say fuck

the holy family with every

venous scar, in the hours spent

treated after beatings by Fort

Apache cops, in the church

with a priest who never says

a thing.

we looked for god going

hungry, unable to pay the

rent, write a sentence, find

work, wash away grief with

stupid lines like joy, love and

peace. we looked for god in

sleep, on the cheeks we kiss

on faces judged full of sin by

the people saying phony prayers.

we take turns now expecting

a divine word, though it appears

god has no time for wretched

spics who never dress slick for

church.