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 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Doug Draime

God Opens a Swiss Bank Account

 


I never expected the
burnt offerings. I didn’t
care whether it was a
goat or a
14 year old virgin. I
was in it for
the money: the gold
and silver coins, land deeds,
trust funds,
resellable mutual bonds,
placed at the altar
of my feet.
Must you bring slaughter
and idolatry into
the matter?
I can’t use your ATM cards,
too many numbers
to remember.


 

 

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