God’s Junk Mail

By Kaeli Behr

 

I used to pray to God

I let him hear of the trashcans set ablaze in my mind

By the hooligans made of smoke and mirrors

I told him about the flickering neon signs dripping syrup

Onto the floor where bodies rolled under boots and sneakers

 

I was the boots

 

I was the bodies

 

I was the trash can filled with fire

 

I asked Him to free me of the smoke and mirrors and syrup and the sticky neon signs

When he didn’t answer I decided that maybe I was those things too

 

I snapped a rubber band against my wrist

My teacher told me I was disrupting class and sent me to the hall

But I could see the haze surrounding my classmates

Dark wisps and pastel swirls covering their heads

 

I asked God to clear the mist away from them.

He didn’t answer again

 

I wish there was a telephone that reached heaven

I’m sure an angel would pick up on the first ring

Or the second, if it was a busy day

 

I haven’t prayed to God in a while

He doesn’t need the extra junk mail I guess

And I don’t need another show of vulnerability burning in His bin

 

There’s a dingy silver can in this one alleyway I know

And I have a bit of gasoline

 

Maybe I’ll light it up

 

Then God will see me.

 

Action! by Gabby Garner