I pray to no one-
Though once, I confess to worshiping a rock;
It seemed far older, than any god that I had true proof of existence
I scrubbed it gently with a toothbrush, perfumed and powdered it
(well so what, if those were all my favorite things;
isn't god just supposed to be a larger, matinée version of ourselves?)
And I knew a Malaysian man
Who said he used to worship a nail protruding from the bathroom wall,
Where he would bend down and prostrate himself before it
While brushing his teeth, performing his morning absolutions;
As somehow it seemed to satisfy his requirements
Of a god, who for once perhaps
Was not afraid to humble himself, before his subjects.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem