I daydream: it’s snowing out
and two people, a man and a woman,
make love upon the white pillows
of flurries. Their fingers are purple
and their toes are turning black,
but their eyes remain focused
on each other, as if whispering
that there is nothing else in this world
to live for. No such thing as love,
just that one moment of euphoria
surging down from one into another
fighting its way to generate life
for no purpose
other than to reproduce again.
And in this thought, half-fearing
that it is the truth
and half-hoping that it is not,
I wonder, who does God pray to?
…as published in The Collage, 2010.
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