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where god was // david mclean

once God was behind the doors
of all the cottages
and there were cottages
and a God to share the frugal

fare, his wayfarers men were
but, now we have woken
tomorrow, our doors open
on to nothingness,

and we live stacked in piles to
a sky pollution-packed
with death’s words that pixelate
heaven ugly with layered lies,
while the noble lie, our
patriarch, is clean-shaven today
and misses us as a memory
dusting his oblivious window sill,

our roots grew there to cathedrals
empty now, even they
whose high windows hued heaven
with the innocence of greedy dreams -

our dreams are much hungrier now
and nothing speaks.
no heaven above us but here this hell
we built ourselves