In the blue silver of the mid-morning sky
An eyebrow of light moves across – Hold
On – Stop thinking it is god, it’s not god, it resembles
An eyebrow is all – could be the eyebrow of a dog
Well, not 'dog-brows' to speak of, but those ridges that suggest
Interest when raised and an interest in
Violence when lowered, but then slitty
Eyes mean affection? I don’t understand nature; how can
I understand the divine? And now these eyebrows in the sky,
Mine are raised and lowered and so on and so
Forth, god I have to smoke a cigarette just to calm down and
The curlicues of smoke drift up into the eyebrow now coupled
With the eye of the sun, but calmer now, less intense: maybe
Seeing a god in everything is like talking to a dog and expecting
The right answer, silly and profound in that there isn’t one.
