When I was six
my mother worked on Sundays
so she sent me to Sunday School
because it was free.
They handed out those extra-big chocolate bars
if you memorized the verses
so I got to know God and Jesus and everyone
pretty quick.
It wasn’t long before I started to suspect that
I was Jesus.
(Coming back as a girl was clever
because if he was recognized
he’d probably get nailed to the cross again.)
Since God was my dad
I came up with a code to get
his attention.
I’d blink twice
while simultaneously
tapping my finger twice on my leg.
God knew this meant
trouble.
Like when Clare turned all the other girls
against me.
That man who showed me
his snake
in the lane.
And when everybody had to have a turn as pitcher
even though you can’t throw straight
after eighteen tries.
Blink blink
tap tap.
No one else noticed
except God
who sorted things out.
I don’t believe in God anymore
not that God anyways
but when I had to take my four-month-old son
to the eye specialist
I sat in the waiting room
and while my husband stretched his sore back
I sat quietly
and blinked twice
tapping my finger on my thigh.
I wasn’t even aware I was doing it
until I noticed the chubby boy with thick glasses
sitting beside me
doing the same thing.
I knew he was blinking
because his vision was blurry
and tapping his fingers
because doctors make him nervous
but a part of me
wanted to ask him
because I forget now
when God answers
is his voice soft and kind?