by Anna Sheehan

She’ll be shouting out that same shite about God again,

I’ll bet ya anything.

Preaching about those old wans from that book-

The Bible I think it’s called.

The one where God is the Raven,

And he only knocks when it’s time.

She takes pleasure in cursing me as a non-believer, 

But lady, don’t you ask me to face a hopeful life

I’m what they call a Poe-ho-

Want to hear my tale-filled heart?

Your angels wouldn’t sit well with my demons-

And I don’t think they’d like me much.

Nobody’s watching me from above-

Sure, that’s an invasion of privacy, right?

It’s too dark in here-

Get away with that blinding light.

I’m not crazy, and I’d beg you to believe me,

But I don’t like being told what to think either.

I too have heard all things in heaven and hell-

And perhaps even more in heaven.

Maybe I’m jealous of her, 

But hell, I’ve got faith too!

It’s easier to focus on the dark stuff.

Maybe you’ll believe that?