The Spiritual Bitch
You come to me like this? For this?
Pretense of incense, thoughts, and prayers
confounding rites with fear and wish,
to seek, in me, some prescient mirror?
Who told you what you see is yours?
Each mote of life runs its own course.
Turn to the world. Your answer’s there.
What will be is. What’s coming’s here.
Richard Porter is but a lowly reference clerk who jumps rope with the Kansas/Missouri border. His poetry has appeared in The Asses of Parnassus, Grand Little Things, The Orchards Poetry Journal, and Pulsebeat.
Pulsebeat Poetry Journal 