God is the original face before
I was born. The lost part of my brain,
drifting across beginningless
lifetimes, bobbing in the embryonic fluid.
God is tortoise tracks and prayers by
a beachside grave and the last days
of summer. Why the universe is so hot,
crowded, and noisy, yet arrives quietly
each lonely evening, on my doorstep,
a bouquet of suffocating tulips.
George Cassidy Payne is a poet from Rochester, NY. His work has been included in such publications as the Hazmat Review, Moria Poetry Journal, Chronogram Journal, Ampersand Literary Review, The Angle at St. John Fisher College, and 3:16 Journal. George’s blogs, essays and letters have appeared in USA Today, The Wall Street Journal, The Atlantic, Havana Times, South China Morning Post, The Buffalo News, and more.
See all his poems on Tea House here.
