They asked me my religion
And I tried to fill out their form.
But the circles wouldn’t stay put.
They refused to line up with the labels, and when I filled in one the others would flicker on and off.
They asked me my religion
Their hands on their holsters
So I started to blather about phenomena and theosophies,
But the words started toallflowintooneanother
And I forgot what I was answering.
They asked me my religion
Their guns raised by now
And I tried to fumble through ancient rites.
They asked me my religion
So I led them outside
Past rusty grates on storefront windows
The lamp fixtures plastered with notices
To the people poised on stoops smoking on rapid words
And the bright-faced children kicking a cardboard box along the pavement.
This poem was published in the Spring 2020 issue of Soul-Lit.
Andy Oram
September 7, 2018