dust and coriander
resting on a steel-mill
town, and we grumbled
at the Lord
as we toiled for our
blessings—
and all the while the
fly ash
kept settling out of
heaven.
Forty years we gathered
slag and baked
unleavened loaves of
cancerous bread until
ashes-ashes all our
manna gone to rot.
And when we had
returned to dust and
rested on our
neighbors' porches, they sang
a dirge and hymns of
praise unto the Lord.
