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For His Names Sake
There is only one person in the universe
and he is a lie.
No throne in his nothingness, no lightning bolt
can describe his inscrutability
his blind immortal eye.
Alone, he invents armies of children
to disobey him. They reinvent him
in multiple disguises.
He ignores their games.
Child, you are but a passing fable
told by a drunkard on a stormy night.
Come, climb these stairs up to the attic
meet your father.
Look, he is a bespectacled fellow in
a yarmulke reading a yellowed newspaper.
He hands you a slice of bread and a pickle
the bread crumbles in your grip to star dust
the pickle is a comet dipped in green vinegar.
You turn to thank him and he is gone.
© Johnmichael Simon
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