Wholly

VERSE ION

This broken thing,
You fix it, no
you fix it, no
one can.
Stained glass broken
with a crooked, rusted wrench.

Then, voila!
Everything hangs with string.
The light shines just so;
You put your fingers
over your left eye, and --
Glorious!

Then a cloud moves.
Gobbletygook.
The wretched thing they call God
smirks with perfect teeth,
sips an invincible crystal martini
on a balcony. Turns away.

But the Devil helps.
He lives with your mess,
gets you out of bed
each morning.
"Try the wrench again,"
he says, loving you.