Joey McGee
sarah,
nervously laughing
within herself—
hopeful yet hesitant—
at this news of a promised child,
from her very womb, nonetheless.
could it be:
a word spoken,
a reproach revoked?
oh, the contrariness of it all!
G–d, you betta not be playin’ ’round with me,
she mutters under her breath.
Hah! finally falls from her lips:
I don’t believe.
a word of promise
stirs
hopes and desire again
and i am reprimanded
as the ancient recurring question arises:
is anything impossible
with G–d?
