Breaking Prez

I.

How can he be so Presbyterian 
As to hear that wind we talked about 
In the simulacrum of a suburban
Neighborhood here in Santa Fe
And feel a pang of guilt for his comfort?
Had the lung pumped again yesterday 
In a snowstorm – our two days of winter 
As he joked, thankful for a swivel chair 
In a warm room out of the wind, how mundane -
But that seems his world these lengthening days
As the cold grows greater. The grey-green cat by the simulated
Fire does not display any uneasy feeling unless 
Someone makes a move for the switch that will
Make the flame disappear.

II.

But now he's gone full Presbyterian 
And thoughts about predestination and 
Free will come rushing in a 
Conflicted calvinistic tide. 
Maybe he believes again, and so then this is 
The only thread of the plot of the story
That he could belong to, that makes sense -
If cancer makes any sense, or the rest of it.
All tangled up with the others, how could he
Think to change it
And besides the prophet tells us that it (whatever it is)
Was all decided a long time ago. 

Author: Duncan MacNae

Exiled Gael, scion of the Dust Bowl, dweller within Divine Grace, admirer of mountains, I have made my peace with trout and the starlings. Looking for a river and healing trees. duncanmacduncan5@gmail.com View all posts by Duncan MacNae