I carve a peephole in my mother’s womb
through which I can view the world.
My vision is fogged in a red mist
and distorted by a fleshy lens
so that everything is vague and insubstantial.
A mongrel dog speaks to me of intolerance.
A man howls at a gin-soaked moon that ignores him.
Behold, brave injustice!
Hear me, noble desecration!
Wondrous flowers of sinew and supplication.
Tears soaked in the black-flecked vomitive remnants
of yesteryear’s aspirations.
As my mother lay bleeding from her wounds,
I offer my gratitude that the world will be withheld
from this sorry misanthrope who yet lacks the teeth
to chew through the umbilical cord of existence.
By the marrow of my bones some God seized me
and pulled me down to His level.
I fell with all the grace that He had endowed me,
tumbling and fluttering on His unholy hook.
I saw stars and comets and planets and creations
that had been forgotten before me, abandoned to the reaches of memory.
I saw a mirror, and in that mirror I saw myself,
lonely and absent, fragile and forlorn, nothing but a fractured reflection.
Then I saw a God, your God, the God,
and His features reminded me of caverns and turbulent seas.
He was magnificent as only a God has a right to be,
glowing and glowering in all the majestic glory He had permitted Himself.
He turned me over in His illustrious hand,
examining every flaw and crevice and ailment in His humble creation.
He studied me for a lifetime, an endless heartbeat,
and did not ask me my name or my desires or my thoughts or my intentions.
I felt His eyes, I felt His breath, I felt His indignation
at what I had not achieved, at what I had not dreamed.
I imagined Him punishing me for all my faults,
but I could only think that I was as He had created me.
He thought of me, in doing so judging me,
and sentenced me without a verdict or appeal.
Then He flung me, with an absent flick of His wrist,
back into the void from which I had been removed.
Daniel Davis was born and raised in Central Illinois. He is the Nonfiction Editor for The Prompt Literary Magazine. You can find him at www.dumpsterchickenmusic.blogspot.com, or on Facebook.