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Lyric                                                                   Action

I may never march in the infantry,       [stomp in place]
Ride in the cavalry,                              [hold imaginary reins]
SHOOT! the artillery,                        [slap palm and make a cannon with arm]
But I’m in the Lord’s Army, YES SIR!      [salute]

God was the imperceptible sphere formed
by innumerable spy satellites capable
of determining whether or not
my dinner fork lay right of my salad fork.
By the light of His infrared gaze I tried
to count how many sins I could scrape
out from under my fingernails, lost
track, grew sleepy, woke up in the infantry
in the Lord’s Army. Those pushups
they made us do only made my arms
tired and when I asked if the enemy
was also doing pushups and if
so, how many could they do
and who won the Last Great
Pushup Battle? When I asked
that they made me do extra.
My fellow GI assigned to clean the latrines
helped me appreciate the delicacy
of self-canceling oppositions: Who
doesn’t listen for the hiss of a lit
match dropped into the toilet?
Who truly realizes that should we call
God unjust, He could just fry us
with His holy magnifying glass
and still remain in the right, since
it’s His magnifying glass, His light?
At my court marshal, the corporal-slash-attorney
accused me of using words as rock and flint
to light the curtains of doubt and burn down
faith’s already crumbling facilities.
The courtroom door shook with a gentle knocking.
My Lord, Your Honor, I see men as trees, walking
into a forest of fire that does not consume. I appealed
my case to a higher court, where I was found
guilty and my sentence was perpetual forgiveness.

Posted 12/31/11
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