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EASY TO SPEAK HIS NAME

One-syllable God I know you
in my pain: this burned finger,
little agony, and I fear you
once again.

Though heaven is monstrous
in my thoughts, hell is compact —
a place I can put my sinful
arms around.

Mountains, rivers, a bee's brain,
I do not doubt you inhabit
everything. You with ten
thousand names, do You

hear me when I sing?
Am I a fair-weather friend,
worse — curse you when I've lost
my hair, sold back the farm?

      — Teresa White