"Just Saying," "In the End," and "As We Were Promised"

Just Saying

Your God is an asshole.
It's the only explanation.
I mean, we know you're
a good person, right?
I see how you want us
all to get along.
You even want to get along
with the horrible liberals.
I know you do.
If only they would just
come around and
stop being so mean.
I know you're a good person
and you were raised right.
God and country all the way.
So I know you wouldn't want
children going hungry
or people sleeping
in the streets
or dying because
they have no healthcare
or being abused
because of their religion
or who they love.
I know you don't want women
treated as objects
molested
subjugated.
What kind of good person
would want any of this?
Not you, of course.
Never you.
So it must be that asshole God
you rave about.
It must be that asshole God
that wants these bad things.
It must be that asshole God,
the one you keep saying you fear.
That asshole God
is abusing you, right?
Making you do things
you don't like?
Making you hurt people?
Making you judge your neighbor
and laugh about it
as you plot their death?
What an asshole your God is.
Maybe the old God retired.
Maybe the old God died.
Maybe the old God
became an alcoholic
and is a really mean drunk.
The God you grew up with
was love, right?
And now you're stuck
with this asshole God
and you've got to obey.
Shit. That's awful.
I hope you can find a way out.
I really do.
The first step is admitting
there's a problem,
but you already see the problem,
don't you?
I mean, you're a good person, right?
I know you would never be an asshole on your own.
Right?

 


 

In the End

Everything fell from the statue
and crawled toward the city
toward the people drinking coffee
or wandering aimless streets
the people arguing
and the people asleep on benches
and some saw it coming
and thought they could fix things or hide
maybe escape
but there was nowhere to go
and the things crawling from the statue
came to the city
and the people were consumed for a time
and then some of them
went about their business
and some retreated to darkness
and when the bombs finally dropped
it was the children
who went to the statue
and stood there accusing the lie
and when death came
it came for everyone
and all that was left
was the statue
broken and aflame
and then there was nothing
and no way home ever again

 


 

As We Were Promised

Then she came into the room
and the banging stopped
the tragic banging in our heads
stopped just for then
as she entered the room
and roots flourished within the silence
and the young men wept
and all the women danced
as she came into the room
and took our hands like prayer
within the posture of sacred blessing
there in the room where we had all died
and the banging stopped for that moment
when she came into the room
dark as pestilence
and filled with grace

 

 

Jeff Weddle

Jeff Weddle is a poet, short story writer and small press historian living in Tuscaloosa, Alabama. Among his thirteen books are the Welty Prize winning Bohemian New Orleans: The Story of the Outsider and Loujon Press (University Press of Mississippi, 2007), When Giraffes Flew: Short Stories (Southern Yellow Pine, 2015), and poetry collections Comes to This (Nixes Mate, 2017) Heart of the Broken World (Nixes Mate, 2017) Citizen Relent (Unlikely Books, 2019), A Puncher’s Chance (Rust Belt Press, 2019) and others. His most recent volume is Advice for Cannibals (Poetic Justice Books, 2022).

 

Edited for Unlikely by Jonathan Penton, Editor-in-Chief
Last revised on Monday, July 2, 2018 - 11:52