gambling with god

years of visiting your house
you’d serve me, on a coaster, bread and tea
but i had never dared to tell you
i always preferred coffee

even with a stepladder
it wasn’t in my means
to stretch high enough to reach the jar
and swap your tea leaves with beans

after many broken bones and angry bruises
from falling off the steps
i came to accept your stone cold plans
and sipped on bitter tea as i wept

god,
if you say you love me,
then why do you
forsake me?

(today my grandmother asked me why i stopped saying a prayer before i go to bed every night)