psalm

A David Psalm

53 
1-2 Bilious and bloated, they gas,

“God is gone.”

It’s poison gas—

they foul themselves, they poison

Rivers and skies;

thistles are their cash crop.

God sticks his head out of heaven.

He looks around.

He’s looking for someone not stupid—

one man, even, God-expectant,

just one God-ready woman.

He comes up empty. A string

of zeros. Useless, unshepherded

Sheep, taking turns pretending

to be Shepherd.

The ninety and nine

follow the one.

Don’t they know anything,

all these impostors?

Don’t they know

they can’t get away with this,

Treating people like a fast-food meal

over which they’re too busy to pray?

Night is coming for them, and nightmare—

a nightmare they’ll never wake up from.

God will make hash of these squatters,

send them packing for good.

Is there anyone around to save Israel?

God turns life around.

Turned-around Jacob skips rope,

turned-around Israel sings laughter.