Michelle Puehler
A Little Note to God
Brandon L. Brown

Fisted knots can’t hold them together,
these lines of thought
I brought to the sick green-blue.
If I could walk water
the swells would trip me—caught—
a ridiculous fish to rot or to stew,
twisted in oughts, in ought nots tethered,
tangled, bobbing, the sun smeared hot—
this all must really amuse You
to see this self-proclaimed scholar
in such a spot,
arms and toes poking through,
his certainties altogether