Big Dog Gone

by Chris Buchanan
Poetry, 2016

Where’s Big Dog gone?
Up? He was always tall,
Must be up
in the clouds
on the roof
somewhere?
Now there’s no-one left
bigger than me.

So long old feller.
Maybe he can hear me-
can you hear me
old yeller?
Alpha, papa, omega, dada,
Our Father,
man in the moon yeah,
what do we do now Pops?

Pop pop
pop.

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Man

by Chris Buchanan
Poetry, 2013

When God saw the face of man
He thought the man had made the sun.
He knew better, but He swears He thought so
in that moment. He always remembers.

When God saw the man’s hands build
He thought it was magic and He gasped.
He thought there were wonders He couldn’t touch
and He thought He would reach forever.

When God saw the man’s eyes up close
He thought they were windows to paradise.
He saw a halo and the light of colour
and mused about what might be in the black.

One day God heard the man speak to Him
and He thought He would never be happier.
He waited to hear the secrets of everything
until He slept, and smiled, and it died.

God’s Wife

by Chris Buchanan
Poetry, 2010

I was God’s wife. Not the pillar of salt. God’s.
Our Heaven was good, just didn’t last very long.
He spent all his time in His Garden,
didn’t talk to me much after the wedding.
Then He made another woman, brown and beige,
really little, but in my own image,
but little. He waved unknowable fruit at her, teasing.
‘Nooo, you can’t have this one. This one’s for meee.’
I hear He has a train set now
or something, and He flooded the little people? I dunno.
It’s possible He even killed their first born.
I hear He has their witches stoned?
And He fathered a kid with another of the beggars
or something. I didn’t look back.