Spent the day preparing the way
of the Lord. Woke to birds, breathed
the good Lord’s air, made the bed
of the Lord. Pulled those sheets straight.
Rinsed the toothpaste from the sink.
Thanked the Lord for one more day
of clean socks.
Drank the tea of the Lord—cream
and honey. Paid the Lord’s urgent bills,
left the rest. Raked the Lord’s lawn.
Ate the Lord’s leftovers for lunch,
stuffed the mountains of leaves
into bags, dragged them to the curb
before I put the Lord’s feet up.
Rubbed them, cursed the bunions—
Lord knows what their purpose is—
and took the nap of the Lord.
It was a golden afternoon
when I lay down, and when I rose up.
Threw open the Lord’s curtains.
Went down to peel vegetables
for the Lord’s supper. We had
new carrots, chives, mushrooms
in curry. Prepared a table for the Lord.
Used the best plates. Lingered, watched
the stars come out. I didn’t mind washing up
the Lord’s dishes. It’s always a pleasure
in someone else’s house.