catapult magazine

God Breathed



by Marcus Goodyear

He prayed for strength from God to kill himself,
then took a gun and wrapped it in a feather
pillow, sat on the edge of the bed by the shelf
where each book cover waited like a trigger
ready to shoot fantastic stories of death.
Grocery store thrillers by Koontz and King
sit cocked beside a leather Bible, the breath
of God in each book: Gospels, Lightning, Shining.
“God give me strength,” he wheezed sweaty and flushed,
knowing the bullet will send his corpse to dine
with worms. Ashes to ashes, flesh to dust.
Put a finger on your breast and draw a line
in the sand. Genesis death may not be the worst.
If the hammer sticks, the gun can click an empty curse.