God Is

God is a single braid down my sister’s back
fingers threading ribbons
a dotted track that leads to things
I cannot stack in neat piles
of coins and schemes and printed reams
about cracks in theories of this and that.

Perhaps you’re lost
or past the point of no return
the game is gone
the worm has turned
and where is God
Is he in the game?
If you freeze the frame
will it be the same?

God is the braid down my sister’s back
the loosening grin
the hand that claps
God is the grit in my gut
and the call in my play
the pith in the point
and the crawl in the fray

Oct. 21.08