1999 (c) revised significantly 3/19/2026
God’s Work
God rages and paces the construction company’s hall.
He hires any man with a pulse,
willing to work under-scale.
The drywaller shows up
drunk,
if he shows up at all.
The electrician deals drugs from his van.
Carpenters hammer and hew,
lifting rafters off-keel.
In this heaven, it rains every day.
Every sunset flawed.
If you don’t praise God,
no paycheck. No one stays long.
It is all patch, re-patch,
temporary repair.
God damns the painter
who buys his own tools on God’s account.
Damns the plumber who sleeps on shift—
while pipes burst
and water floods the floor.
God stands back,
hands clean.
He couldn’t lay a tile,
fix a breaker,
plumb a line—
and still calls it his.
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