The changing pressure of this season
makes your ears misbehave
Every sound sings like a sonnet
read aloud under water
And even a perfect day
ends on notes of conspiracy
after the hierarchy
of money
vices
survival
and then God
passes through your hands
On skeptic knees
you bowed to pray
and arose
home at the scent of burning leaves
salvaging burned bridges
on bent knee
While god is a secret
you whisper to strangers
on days of malcontent contentment
