by Mark Waldrop
I thought I would write a poem
About a saguaro trying to please God
The saguaro would spend a hundred years
Growing an arm and offering flowers in its fist —
God barely notices.
The saguaro flowers a crown for God.
More arms.
God then loses his patience with the saguaro
And strikes it dead as fuck with lightening
Zap.
But then I began to hate the poem
And the saguaro, and
I could see why God could care less.
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Nice bitter sweet little poem, like a good shot of whiskey.Offering flowers in its fist-God barely notices. Ah but the poet notices, and notices the unnoticing also. Dead as fuck. Neat. Although for me I could see why people think of God as dead as fuck.