Poetry: Jesus Tore Down the Temples of God by D. S. Maolalai

Jesus Tore Down the Temples of God

 

o you magazines

which primp and spit

and tumble circles like waterhens,

and think perhaps that anyone

will ever read your pages

except some cynical poet

looking to fluff up a cover

 

letter. you are dead

now as birds and foxes

on streetsides,

open and silent

like trees in a city

where everyone goes skating by

(who is moved by a leaf?

the ant scurries)

 

there is nothing for you here.

you are something

nobody needs

anymore. 

what is this thing

that poetry is? 

is it something to think about or something

to know about

or something that people

act like they know about

because they grew up reading it not knowing

that there is nothing there anymore? you might as well

drill holes in your head and die

or let out pressure:

 

jesus tore down all the temples of god

and smote out all people with apples

and nobody who went there

to practice their worship 

could have anything to eat

or pass the time

doing anything

else but be supplicant.

D. S. Maolalai has been nominated eight times for Best of the Net and five times for the Pushcart Prize. His poetry has been released in two collections, Love is Breaking Plates in the Garden (Encircle Press, 2016) and Sad Havoc Among the Birds (Turas Press, 2019)