Poem On: Day 16

Probopass (#476)

Imagine being God
and getting mad
at an idol. You’re cooling
out, maxing, being
a cloudy boy, and one
of your disobedient
little images hacks
a rock a bit too well,
long nose a touch
too lovable. This
won’t do. Soon
they’ll ask why
magnets work, hang
meaning on stone
in a fancy hat. Give credit
to a thing. Nope. You twitch
the divine moustache,
flustered, but hardy.
You’ll send a message.
You’re sure we’ll take it
as a message this time.
Another nice mess
you’ve gotten us into.