To the God of Small Things

Some say you are a lesser god,
dominion only over salt shakers and paper clips.

Not for you thunderbolts, a marble seat
on Olympus,

Nor the mythy mind of Sunday Morning.
But it is to you I’m grateful

That my keys are still in my right-hand pocket this morning,
that the glue on this envelope sticks

After I lick it.
The god of my knurled brass bushings

That are so reliable - no burning bush
here, but brassy sure under my fingertips.

When “bad things happen to good people”
things are so manageable with you –

The cheese I spilled on the floor that our dogs
jumped on before I could get a paper towel –

Well I’m not the Biblical Job 
sitting in my ash pit over it.

OK, fine, I swore, I denied you thrice, sure,
but it’s all OK. The dogs are happy, even if

A little gassy.
The floor is swept clean again now,

I have a fresh cup of coffee
and a bagel.

Miz Quickly


  1. Shawna says:

    In the past few days, I’ve done both of the following:

    spilled a full container of iodized salt into the dishwasher and onto the floor all around it
    spilled a container of Jell-O onto two shelves and in the drawers of the refrigerator, and underneath it, splattering much on the surrounding floor as well

    I try to choose laughter and appreciation for the extra exercise (squats and forward bends) at such times as these.

    All this to say, I understand this poem.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. qbit says:

      Ooooh, the Jell-O, that’s rough! LOL!


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