What God Looks Like

[a vermits]

someone carved
Jack and Jill forever
on the table you eat breakfast
morning after morning

and if you just
run your hands over the
indent

you’ll notice symmetry
you’ll realize
both J’s possess equal
depth

and you’ll think-
such a pretty morning
ruined by all this pollen

pollen in the crevices
filling trenches like
sad soldiers
exposed by a tendency
to huddle in fear

beautiful creation both
warm and allergic

and you’ll miss the point:
and grow angry nothing fits
that everything must be eyed out
that educated guess is your only recourse

not noticing the comfortable angles
left by his hand

an admirably steady hand

for a vandal