Destroyer

I am the destroyer of perfection
come in the dark with clomping boots
and clanging silver shovels
so that I can rip assunder God’s work
and make great jagged piles of that soft stuff,
that quiet, sparkling blanket of angels’ tears,
frozen and perfect and revealing perfection,
so that I may have a place to park my car.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Poetry, photos, musing

Pin It on Pinterest