JAN MY GOD SQUAD FRIEND By Bruce Hodder

Jan was a sort of friend of mine

when I was running low on real ones.

I would travel to her council flat

for my dinner every week or so.

But she only came to my house once.

Afterwards, even when we passed,

she wouldn't come indoors
It was because of all my Buddhas

and the Ganesha on my window sill
The Ginsberg picture on my wall
had made her apoplectic.

She thought, when I had seizures,
that the Man Downstairs and God
were having fistfights for my soul.
"You worship graven images," she said,

without a hint of malice.

This woman was a care assistant.

I heard her tell somebody, ‘Disability’s
God's judgement on the wicked.’
And she really meant it.

One day she landed on her face,

after tripping on a wet floor sign at work

with residents behind her.

Some stepped forward to help her up.

I hid around the corner laughing.

Surely, I was going to Hell.

Bruce Hodder lives in Northampton, England. His work has appeared in many magazines. This year his poetry collection ‘The Journey Home’ was published by Whiskey City Press.