The world is filled with gods
They are like nothing else in the world
This is how you know they are gods
The gods did not make the world
The gods were made by the world
They are more helpless then they have ever been
I asked them if they were once
Like the gods of our storied past
But they did not answer
Their tongues were made of stone
And their teeth of wool
They neither sing nor speak
I found them one day searching
For change, but my pockets were empty
Everything now must remain as it was
Only the world changes
As stars withdraw to the beginning of time
As we found ourselves at the edge of the forest
Following the animals over the plains
Listening to their lies, their endless
Stories of gods who will not let them be
Jacob Russel lives in South Philly and teaches part time
at Saint Joseph ‘s University. His writing has been published in
the Beloit Poetry Journal, Salmagundi, Potomac Review, Bitter Oleander,
Pindeldyboz, the Laurel Review and other literary venues. jacobrussellsbarkingdog.blogspot.com