He tossed his sin stone
By Patrick T. Reardon
He tossed his sin stone into Lake Deuteronomy,
set fire to his crops
and headed for Egypt City.
He divorced his ring finger with an axe,
slew his cattle where they stood
and set off down Galatians Road.
He gave up on soil,
wore ash sack cloth
and aimed for Pharaoh’s gold.
He drank Red Sea thunder in the sun,
dined on lightning strike
and stormed up the two-lane blacktop.
He greased his hair with pig fat,
embraced Job’s whirlwind
and stepped beardless toward Delta.
He cleared his mind,
emptied his bowels
and fasted for expected banquet.
He buried the saint upside down,
pilgrimed his strides
and visioned sanctuary.
He turned to arrival.
He conjured arrival.
He has yet to arrive.
Patrick T. Reardon
11.21.20
This poem originally appeared at eris & eros on 8.17.20.
Written by : Patrick T. Reardon
For more than three decades Patrick T. Reardon was an urban affairs writer, a feature writer, a columnist, and an editor for the Chicago Tribune. In 2000 he was one of a team of 50 staff members who won a Pulitzer Prize for explanatory reporting. Now a freelance writer and poet, he has contributed chapters to several books and is the author of Faith Stripped to Its Essence. His website is https://patricktreardon.com/.
