Housesitting
I open the cupboard
It smells like meat and spice in there
Does the bread turn into meat and bone
Flesh of my God?
God under the sink
It is dark with known and unknown faces
On cartons and bottles
Pipes that traipse and current on
To who knows where
A filtration plant
So that water might return someday
Water, wine, and blood
The earth weeps I know in
Native sadness
Lands bleeds into water
Ocean’s tears and sadness of
The distance from creation
When molecules
Were shiny and new
And compounds yawned themselves
Into existence
The car is outside
Waiting to carry me temporarily
Somewhere
There is a crease in back
Over which “forgiveness” in a decal
Declares pardon for the small
Collision that nonetheless
Threw me into the intersection
With enough brake force
Applied so that
Only I, my car, was hit
Where is God in this?
God is in the civil conversation
That we had after
In the gears and fluids of the car
That still work and convey me
Thence and whence
In the shadows of the house
Whose objects I don’t
Know so well
God is in the corners
And the spotlights
Of our lives
C L Couch
clcouch123 
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