Serving House: A Journal of Literary Arts
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SHJ Issue 5
Spring 2012

[One Poem]

Rachel Gellman

Blasphemous Rhapsody

God is not in the guest room. Nope, not in a fountain 
pen; nor in the word-city sprawling across this page. 

God, that sage, is not coming to my birthday party— 
didn’t even RSVP. So let’s all agree that God forgets 

to check e-mails; sometimes forgets to write.     
Most nights I think God may not be anywhere. But 

someone had to tell my ears to hear the music 
after you walked in the restaurant. That day, 

we smoked some weed before dinner. It was raining, 
so I got us a table while you parked. All eyes 

in the room shot right through me. My lit-up body 
seemed to stop working, had to think about breathing. 

Then you came in & the bass beats bumped 
me back to stasis. You noticed we had the best

table in the place because the rain drizzled 
down the glass by my face. I hadn’t seen

a drop, hadn’t realized I was sitting. Before you, 
I had been missing the music & the rain. 

Maybe you’re God. If not, I don’t claim to know 
the real one on a first-name basis or anything, 

but someone’s been cutting me some slack. 
Look, I lack compliancy & at tops, I’m a C+ 

when it comes to taking orders from old books. 
I don’t always listen, but hear this very clearly:

God wants me to want you. So I’ll do 
what I have to do ’cause someone out there 

got you to notice me, got you and me to muck 
up the sheets of my bed, right? Don't answer. 

Someone out there is helping us. Someone out there 
has a plan. How else could it all feel so Goddamn good?


End Bug Issue 5

Rachel Gellman

Photo of Rachel Gellman by Josh Bowen
Photograph by
Josh Bowen

Bay Area-native poet and teacher living in San Diego. When not writing or reading poems, she likes to look very closely at her modest garden, walk to her neighborhood bar where she is a local, practice cartwheels, think of new potluck themes, and play softball. She is not afraid of spiders.

Follow her silliness at:

“...we have been born here to witness and celebrate. We wonder at our purpose for living. Our purpose
is to perceive the fantastic. Why have a universe if there is no audience?” — Ray Bradbury