God is a waiting
room, sterile walls and unanswered prayers. He is
the steps of a decaying coffee house
piled high with snow.
He is a halfway house, between here and where you need to be.
Your front porch on that sticky summer night where I stood
anticipating your kiss.
God is a burnt-out neon sign, a roach motel with no beds
a sleepless place where you will wait
for the rest of your life.
Chris Costello is a writer, editor, and educator in Central New York. His work has previously appeared in Nine Mile Magazine and Stone Canoe. He is a regular contributor to The Forge News.