god at eleven

god is an overdue library book
an empty sardine can
an angry santa claus.

god is a school bus full of strangers
a sixty on the test
a dad who’s always pissed
a mom with scar tissue.

god is a prison guard with rheumatic fever
a flying squirrel in a cage
a deformed colt in a field
a member of the john birch society.

god still lives with his parents
he fights with his brother over pigs
drives a milk truck on saturday to make ends meet
makes me wear an athletic supporter
watches hee-haw and listens to country music
on the radio.

god has a workshop in the basement
he picks the dump and smokes white owls
takes his teeth out when he eats
makes me cry in front of the whole class
stands in our driveway and tells my dad
he’s no good.

god wants to punish me for something I didn’t do.


Excerpted from Iron Man Family Outing: Poems about Transition into a More Conscious Manhood by Rick Belden. Copyright © 1990, 2008 by Rick Belden.

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This is a great poem. That’s how I image God at 11 as well :)

Each image break dances and turns on its head. This poem is as varied as the alphabet. Love it!

Incredible thoughts. Your writing evokes such emotion.

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