Plague Psalm 19
June 21, 2022/
The heavens distract
from the gnashing of ants
And from your mouth pour forth
doom after doom.
The shaking fist proclaims the wound of your brand—
Nightmare upon nightmare
sprout from your moon.
You’ve pitched
termites into our wooden house,
And cloud upon cloud upon cloud
you build,
Night after night we hear the working jaws
Packing them full
of grayness and rainfall.
Your steeples
are sharper than kitchen knives,
Your statues entrap us
with perfection.
Bees needle our sin-stung flesh in your hive
Yet some kind of sweetness
still touches the tongue.
May my workloads of muck serve to bless, then,
The gleam of the floor of your seventh heaven.
First appeared in Post Road Magazine.
Philip Metres has written numerous books, including Shrapnel Maps (Copper Canyon 2020). Winner of Guggenheim, Lannan, and NEA fellowships, he is professor of English and director of the Peace, Justice, and Human Rights program at John Carroll University, and core faculty at Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA.