g.o.d.

"g.o.d." by Eric Keizer

I cannot stop the thought of running out the door.
Coming up, a which way sign,
All good truants must decide.
-Immortality, Pearl Jam.

And maybe God really does mean,
Good orderly direction,
But not for downward spirals, vortices and whirlpools,
And tornadoes in my head.
Storms of rage and deceit,
Shrinking from lights,
But in dismal finality-
Acceptance
Because it’s all futile
Puerile,
And hindsight is a bitch.
Sins aren’t forgiven,
Just catalogued and
Pressed into moist skin
Like brands on
Doe eyed innocents,
Tallied just before slaughter.

***

Eric Keizer was born and raised in Chicago. He earned his B.A. in English from Drake University, and his M.Ed. from Aurora University. He lives in northern Illinois with his wife Julie, and his dog, Emma. Eric’s first published work was a short story included in an anthology. Since then, he has had one solo collection of poetry, Urban Mythology (2017), an anthology with eight other poets, Ambrosia (2017), and his latest chapbook, Vignettes.