“My God’s A Cold God” by Anthony Cappo

Distant, Deist, winding
wheels and springs, then
hands off lets the stopwatch

fly. His children bottle-fed
babies, arm’s length, not
suckling flesh, not feeling

heartbeat but plastics, plastics.
Ersatz affections—stiffened
hugs, low-touch slow dance.

God’s in his heaven but not
taking calls. When it’s all over
he’ll love you, but he’s got his own

thing now. He’ll see you
on the other side, where breezes
don’t flay, streams don’t roil,

where you no longer need him.

Anthony Cappo’s poems have appeared in Connotation Press: An Online Artifact, Stone Highway Review, The Boiler Journal, Yes Poetry, Lyre Lyre, and other publications. He received his M.F.A. in creative writing from Sarah Lawrence College. Anthony lives in New York City, where he can be found singing while walking through the streets and subway stations.

Image by Sarah Clark

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