The Burning Bush/ I Am That I Am Poem by Derek Keck

The kitchen sink,
speaking so quietly
in the corner,

may have been the creator of
the universe

dripping his voice out
of the faucet.

Only, no one needed
to be brought up out
of Egypt,

so I lit another cigarette.
And,

God and I marked each
other on this point,

there doesn’t seem like
there’s much to do
between

life and death,
but

take the space
we are given.

She is gone.(Drip)
She is gone. (Drip)
She is gone.(Drip)

You talk too much,
I said.

The sink replied,
אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה