Judy Blume at Prayer

Hello God, it’s me
Margaret. Hello
Margaret, it’s me
Mick. Hello
says God, hello
Margaret and Mick.
Hello says God
and because I am
omniscient, hello
reader too. Let me
confess, Mick says,
I’ve lied, I am
not Margaret sorry.
It’s okay
says God, all is
forgiven if you
are sincere. Sorry
God too I am not
you, says Mick,
and you are
not, I’ve written
all your lines.
Reader, I repent
too because I am
not even a speaker
in this poem.

Nothing Winged

I am a little wound made
cunningly, a little break,
some small burn, an ache
that centers in the chest,
an unrest. O’ little game we play:
the dodge, the missing. Nothing
winged has ever saved, only arrow
or burning bolt, a hiss
unbottling what’s bound tight,
to keep the boom from view,
from you.