he was your god
you’d quote his good word
Hosanna on high
when you were caged
we had a deal though—he’d leave me alone
so what’s this shit?
a year to the day
one year from the bathroom floor
where you met your god
three letters from a dust jacket
fall like priority mail
to the hardwood
what did you tell him?
we had a deal—he balked
now he delivers the fucking mail
april 4, 2011: grandpa died
april 4, 2012: grandpa died a year ago
tell your god I read them
when you sent them
addressed from a florida prison
you made it out
you let him know
I’d deal again
if he can take back
the call I made to your mother, the one to your wife
if he can take back the sounds your sister made
I’d make a deal
______________
Rob Kaniuk is a proud uncle. He works as a union carpenter in Philadelphia where he writes on his lunch break. His debut publication in Schuylkill Valley Journal (spring 2017) was nominated for a 2018 Pushcart prize (nonfiction). Rob has attended the Yale Writers’ workshop 2018 & 2019.