God of miracle hairs
found on shower walls
too high to have got there.
God of toenails and tablecloth
crumbs God of perfect-stride-stairs.
God of the timed light, the glassed sight
and more, the nose cracked in the door. God
of dusty wipes, the jawline after a shave, unrusty
pipes we can save (the labor waved). God of stubbed
toes which heal, the slow spinning dryer, the warm clothes.
I’ve heard of all the good love we should be thankful for
but God of the button and the bun and the cilla, nail
clippers available right where you guessed them.
And amen for twist ties and the last two slices
of bread. God of blankets. When we sleep
she keeps us breathing. God Margaret
who never took a vacation, who sees
what we eat and keeps the right
tea in stock and angles steep.