Even the old ways abide
the creed of thermodynamics—
gods and devils forever
scraping the sides, dish and spoon
all the ready runaways,
busting down the doors
bursting through the gates.
So these prayers are set
against the endless stars and
long shot heavens, steam and spark,
breath and spine and expectorate
adding up to atmosphere
counting in thousands from the flash,
mumbled words and grotesque pantomime
the hard want of worship
spat at the wily sky
asked in haste, answered in
drought or drizzle, blessings
all percentages and precipitation
the dew point the altar
overwhelmed by the offering
drop by drop by drop.
