Untitled

by Chris Rhetts

When I was young
my sister returned for me to God
the power of decision.

Now I chant, but softly,
and spin the little prayer wheel
she left to me.

Sir, I,
am as a water spider,
held to life by surface tension,
minion of conceit, and fashionable pretension,
trading only in the narrows
in jellied words and common urges.
A water spider,
which the least of rain submerges.