The Second Coming Poem by MARINA GIPPS

God was very upset:
'What do you mean
I don’t Exist? '

Somewhere in the biggest church in the world,
people congregated to see if he could
blow up religious relics of silver and gold.

When lightning came…
the people scurried like suicidal rats:
teeth, thick and functional, gnawing words

Of the flesh,
Of forgiveness,
Of the dollars they stole
Of the breads
Of various beggars
All gone—Fear.

Meanwhile, my parents prepared
our home, a safe sanctuary.
The second coming would be fun, I knew…

But nevermind the rats...
my biggest fear was the cockroaches:
things that made my skin crawl,
retracting unto itself, pores full of grief.

We burnt green objects:
spiral, woodsy, deterrent smell-
discs on our dry bone carpeting.

We never feared fire,
knew God wouldn’t
let us burn.