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Susan Azar Porterfield

All God’s Creatures

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On second thought, God decided to make humans
in such a way that to them, pigs tasted
like heaven. Cows too.

As well as other miscellaneous beings—
All very random, really. Who wound up in the mouth,
molded to meet the mmm, mmm good, molecular/genetic urge

of God’s own making. While others were, you know,
just meh. Sure, God could’ve gone the other way,
contrived so no one seemed yummy to anybody else,

(Word is, God could do anything God wants.)
but God liked seeing the struggle, human-creatures beating
against the chest of their own God-fashioned natures,

because after God had performed the world,
wasn’t much else to do. And being God, God foresaw
that God would get bored, so the suspense kept God’s

attention. How would it all turn out? Stay tuned to see if humans
finally grow more angelic. Will they swing that sledge hammer?
Wring that neck? Watch them rationalize torture

to pop some flesh on the grill. Best of all, God
gets to play the free-will card, built right in. What a piece of
work is man. How noble in reason. In apprehension,

yep, how like a god.

Death of a Nine-Month-Old Girl, Not My Own

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How to enter.
A hook to hang why. As if, I’m home,
time for tea. And so, home.
As if.

Start again.

How to enter the open door,
door being always open. No
inner no out.

Who lied? Who said fair?

Who, in god’s name, said soul?

There’s a father so in love,
he’s not afraid to die.

Starlings, darlings,
children of stars?

each in the flock connected, adjusting
a wing’s bite of air
as the wing of the neighbor

and then again         and then again

the swoop rises, the swoop twists, it falls,

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