Faith With A Hole In The Middle


I feel I’m held together

with old rubber bands

a little string

and bits of dry-rotted cloth

gripping the tail of a

forgotten  half-filled helium

party balloon

tied  loosely

to a dilapitated

white picket fence

the worn whitewash

rubbing off easily

leaving powdery white smears

on one’s hands

impossible to wipe off

without marking something else

Nothing solid

to tether myself to

nothing tangible

nothing sure

only faith

with a hole in the middle

juggled and tossed

by a capricious wind