Monkey God

Monkey God

Keeler, Greg
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I’ve seen a small god among the birds.
It’s their grip on things. I’ve watched them even
after death holding the wire, an absurd
little foot clenched above, leaving
the rest to dangle the way of all flesh.
Others worship here too: the snail,
the squirrel, the lizard, the spider in the mesh
of its web. But what of women and men who fail
gravity’s test by nature—again and again.
There’s one now, hanging on for his life
for no particular reason other than
the rush. Better to cling to a husband, a wife
or a lover than offer these obsolete prayers on a line
to our little monkey god who misses his vine.

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