The Fury Of Gods Goodbye

 One day He 
tipped His top hat 
and walked 
out of the room, 
ending the argument.
 
He stomped off 
saying: 
I don't give guarantees.
 
I was left 
quite alone 
using up the darkness 
I rolled up 
my sweater, 
up in a ball, 
and took it 
to bed with me, 
a kind of stand-in 
for God, 
that washerwoman 
who walks out 
when you're clean 
but not ironed.
 
When I woke up 
the sweater 
had turned to 
bricks of gold.
 
I'd won the world 
but like a 
forsaken explorer, 
I'd lost 
my map.

Biography | Poems | Best Poems | Short Poems | Quotes | Email Poem |

Poems are below...