I begin every morning with many prayers
to the dear Lord who has made the day.
That He might damn the birds of the air,
and smite the neighbor’s dog, and slay
my cat, who fell asleep on my face.
With a groan I hurl curses at the grace
of the hour, and I hurl the cat,
who hisses as he flies. I rise to chase
him down the hall, and hiss right back.
May God help all who get in my way.
May the Almighty Father, who gave
us His only Son, please also destroy
morning talk radio shows. And please save
me from that smiling barista who annoys
the hell out of me every time we meet.
Holy Spirit who illumines all with sweet
wisdom and courage and faith,
must You be so bright? O fiery Paraclete,
consider the unhappiness of my state,
and turn the dazzle down a bit.
So I greet the elevated sun with creative
benedictions made of confused profanity
and nonsense protests, all alliterative
with reasonless fury at the immensity
of the eternal God’s gift of another day.
Fussily I go about the work of the One who loves me anyway.
Anne M. Carpenter