Dammit, God (this dangerous beauty)

The fog,
God’s great blanket
rolled off the bed
floating to
earth,
his steam room
escaping
out the door
soaking
the Oak hills,
washing down this
small
plot of earth,
and
prepares this part
of eastern Ontario
for winter.

I drive my wife
to work
inside
this tunnel vision
of desire –
watching for pedestrians
and school buses,
fools who
don’t believe in head
lights or tail lights.

Returning home,
preparing
my nerve
to
enter back up
through
this white world,
knowing at
Boardmans, the hill
is only half done,
and thinking
‘shit’, ‘i still gotta
go back
down the
other side,’
a back hoe does
30, rocking,
holding traffic-

Previous cautious
drivers,
are now in a
hurry to
pass,
flashing their
lights
realizing,
what headlights
are for the
first time.

The
back hoe,
rocking slowly
up and down
itself
into the bend
passing the
newly built horse barn,
pulls over
just enough
on
a solid yellow line,
allowing
all of us in this hurry
for nowhere,
to pass him before
traffic
comes out of
Gods’ dream from
opposite
direction, only
to continue on
and
tackle the Oak
hills
wishing
God would
stop his
tossing and
turning
in bed, or
turn
the faucets down
in his
steam room
from that top floor
loft.

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About Crazy Irishman

Touted as a working man's poet, Martin Durkin has been writing professionally for the last 12 years. He has appeared in over twenty anthologies across North America, including, "And left a place to stand on", a collection of poems and essays about the late great Al Purdy. Durkin has also published two collections of poetry, "Hypnotic Childhood", and "The Sound of Quish". Over the past 4 years, Durkin has been on hiatus for the most part but has recently come back to the poetry scene creating a poetry site called crazyirishman.wordpress.com, where in the past year he has written over 100 poems and created a cross over page on https://www.facebook.com/crazyirishmanpoetry where he gives a story behind each of the pieces written. View all posts by Crazy Irishman

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