Prayer for the Empire

la-me-san-bernardino-overview-pictures-2015060-013To the god who loves to roll and nuzzle
into mortal filth the way a dog does
warm grass in a shit-strewn dog park

I offer my sea-less Empire.

The zit-faced babies in their wife-beaters
who hang at the shop across the street
from the central high
who jump the ostensibly smart kids
for quarters to buy snacks
meet in secret over their five finger discounted
bongs and pay homage to you

unknowingly.
You’re in the joke that isn’t funny
sober.

Beloved,
Empirian Theos—
the grasping palms of the Northside
panhandlers with hole-y stories
who live in apartments more lush
than mine—these belong to you also.

Preside over the dying orange groves.
“Infected mosquitos here. Hydrocephalus risk,”
your inviolate scripture between the scruffy rows.

Haunt
our landmark abandoned mall—
commerce’s inbred cousin.
Spin the carousel’s lame horses
that rock drunkenly on their tarnished poles
and whinny in the night for a bullet
between the painted eyes.

I offer our fame to you also—
Sammy Davis Jr. lost his eye here
in the dirt of a precarious fork
in the road out. It has rotted away
now, no doubt, brain food
for gila monsters, but the animus
would make a fine moist orb atop your scepter
with no eyelid to blind it to our resigned demise.

Watch over us, oh God of the Dark
and Disparaged,
I pray.

-M.

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About M. Ashley

Essayist and poet, my work has been rejected by some of the finest journals in America. Fortunately, it also gets accepted from time to time and has appeared in equally fine journals such as Word Riot, Inlandia, Brew City Magazine, and SageWoman among others.. In 2002, I was awarded the Academy of American Poets Prize for Vanderbilt University. For no good reason, I possess an unnecessarily dark humor which is why being third generation California Inland Empirian delights me so. My gods are weird. I once received $350 for writing a smartassed essay on “why the wise use of water is important in my daily life”. I am undoubtedly the Greek god Hermes’ special snowflake. I’m pretty sure I got into college via a series of fortuitous clerical errors. When I had to grow up and get a real job, I decided against it and stayed a writer. I have worked many odd—and I mean odd—jobs to support my habit: Commercial writer for country music hopefuls, resume massager, WalMart fitting room attendant and switchboard operator, telephone psychic.
This entry was posted in Devotional, God Poems, Hermes, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Prayer for the Empire

  1. die Schülerin says:

    I love reading your local writings! I’m further south so I have a different cultus, but these posts just always speak to my Californian heart.

    Like

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