we sat with our menus
In response to Shweta’s One Line Poetry Prompt
A voice over a pulpit;Wrinkled notes of inked wood pulpRustle at the hands of woolly faces,Furrowed by the creases:Welcome to the fold.
When they say, BELIEVE, I don’t ask, IN WHAT? but FOR WHO?
In response to Tasneem’s One Line Poetry prompt
Second coming?Unbecoming!Star in the east?Celebri-beast!Walk of Fame?U.S…
— Qu’attends-tu, Godot?
— a miracle! Perhaps, God?