Missing God,

His grace is no longer called for before meals: farmed fish multiply without His intercession. Bread production rises through disease-resistant grains devised scientifically to mitigate His faults.

Miss Him, during the civil wedding when, at the blossomy altar of the registrar’s desk, we wait in vain to be fed a line containing words like “everlasting” and “divine”.

Miss Him, when the TV scientist explains the cosmos through equations, leaving our planet to revolve on its axis aimlessly, a wheel skidding in snow.

Miss Him, when a choked voice at the crematorium recites the poem about fearing no more the heat of the sun.

Miss Him, when our newly decorated kitchen comes in Shaker-style and we order a matching set of Mother Ann Lee chairs.

Miss Him, as the lovers shrugging shoulders outside the cheap hotel ponder what their next move should be.

Even feel nostalgic, odd days, for His Second Coming, like standing in the brick dome of a dovecote after the birds have flown.

Dennis Driscoll (1954-2012), ‘Exemplary Damages’, in New and Selected Poems, Anvil Press Poetry, 2002.