Mondays are sad. We all know this. And they're especially tragic if you've spent the weekend attending riotous holiday parties, seeing "A Streetcar Named Desire" at BAM, and sleeping until 2 p.m, and must now return to reality.
If there's one thing that can cure a case of the Mondays, it's finding a poem like this in your inbox:
Why is the sky blue?
Because God want it to be blue.
Why is the Earth round?
Because God made it round.
Why is my doggy dead?
I don't know.
I love this! I love the easy diction; I love the familiar, simple words; I love the idea the poem captures, which is a complicated one: it's easy enough to believe that God creates happy miracles (the blue sky, the round earth); it's much harder to believe God would allow—or even cause—your dog to die.
At first I thought the title might be too abstract and vague, but on second thought, I like it, because it reflects (and perhaps ironically comments on) the speaker's innocent, slightly naive tone. I have a few tiny edits (want-->wanted, Earth-->earth [or delete the "the" and leave Earth capitalized]), but mostly, I just want to give this poem a candy cane and a hug.
How was your weekend, Sparklers?