Bill Cushing

Apologia

First commandment: “Thou shalt have no other gods before me.”

I,

a fallen spirit,

made a forced exit;

ultimate love for Him

led to this downfall, this

condition of torment

I now lead.

Heaven,

then, 

was ageless, changeless, 

forever and eternal— 

as I was.

Still am.

The law was laid down ages before 

man, before 

altars, before 

temples or churches, before the writing of

law itself. Then,

that First Commandment was altered and

given to mankind: trivial creatures

created out of ego,

then possessed by it. It is ego,

not knowledge,

that is original sin.

Remember this:

before you were, that command stood

for all—animals, plants,

even angels, 

but when clay and dust

were mixed

with the breath of life

to become an imposter

of their creator, 

then

even angels were told,

“Kneel before men.”

Now,

my temptations serve as testimony

to man’s worthlessness,

proving his Bible and God’s own words

correct.

The torture of souls is only

an afterthought, only

reciprocity of torment. 

For my refusal to bow,

I suffer now; 

as do you.

The State of Florida

Power ties gleam, Republican   red,

men in suits crowding, taking the 

entire sidewalk, lemmings crossing 

 the street, over the street. Autumn 

 in Florida, a nip in the air and 

 transients  on the beach. “Rock Stars” 

 touch a    flame to an aluminum 

can,     like the altar boys 

they once were. In 

truck cabs, nightsticks 

 rest in gun racks, a 

 window sticker says, 

 “If you ain’t from Dixie,

  You ain’t shit,” begging 

  the question: If I am from 

   Dixie, does that make me 

   shit? All over are the signs 

    of Southern hospitality 

    at its best: pit bulls and 

     beer cans in yards; stars 

      and bars fly above 

      cinderblock houses or

       trailer homes mounted on 

  cinderblocks; a rusted

   pick-up truck on the same;

    crosses on     front

lawns— burnt

offerings to 

the gods     of

    small-minded

racism. All

   this, 

    and

hot Fall weather, too.

Mary, Colin, and Me

The moon hangs suspended

balanced between three stars

this autumnal February evening.

He’s Libra, balanced; you, I,

Pisces—water signs:

tonight a lunar Trinity.

And I’m thinking of him

and you, and his eyes—

your eyes when you allow,

And I think how when 

I hold him, I hold a part

of you, and sometimes

that’s enough.