faith in nothing

thinking it’s safe to breathe again but
the sunlight hurts your eyes
 
the surface is frozen
 
god on the lake bottom
next to the firstborn child and we
are tired of digging
 
fifty years getting nowhere is just
one way to describe this 
irrelevant civil servant’s life
 
too much work trying to
think up ay others
 
let the sad little bastard die
so we can pick up our shovels again
and he is thinking this sounds
like a plan
 
he is hoping the
poem will grow into a tree
                                but no
 
all it can ever be is the shadow of a
tree falling across the windswept
snow, and what about all of
that wasted time between the
hangover and the beginning 
of the next buzz?
 
what about your father’s reasons
for leaving your mother?
 
for driving off the bridge?
 
suspended against the bright blue
sky for one small infinite moment
then he falls like the weight of
god and smashes everything