I sit here listening to the traffic hum,
wishing that I could mean each word I say,
that I could truly pray, Thy kingdom come.
I’ve never been the one who scores the plum,
my technicolor dreams dissolve to gray.
I’m stuck here listening to the traffic hum.
Why is it birds can sing, while I am dumb?
Why do my lips form words that I betray
each time I try to pray, Thy kingdom come?
Dog that I am, I’d gladly lick the crumb,
but the floor’s swept clean. Nothing for me today
but to sit here listening to the traffic hum
its bankrupt tune. My debt’s a hefty sum,
so I, desperate because I cannot pay,
might roll the dice and pray, Thy kingdom come.
I breathe in deep, and yet my spirit’s numb.
I vow to stay the course, and yet I stray.
I’ll sit here listening to the traffic hum
and try once more to pray, Thy kingdom come.
Eric Potter is a professor of English at Grove City College (PA) where he teaches courses in poetry and American literature. His poems have appeared in such journals as 32 Poems, The Christian Century, Spiritus, The Midwest Quarterly, and Presence. He has published two chapbooks and a full-length collection, Things Not Seen (2015).