After Richard Crashaw.
Balaam’s donkey spoke but the Lord’s did not—
And now I tell ya, I wandered long about that there,
Pastor said, and this, his lips popped, is what I got.
He pondered the difference, talked billy and mare,
Then he stopped. His tongue clicked against his front teeth hard.
Hardly looking for an answer, he says, I looked for prayer.
He’s said before how dry bones live in the flooded backyard
Of Chalcedon or Babylon. And they was kings. Kings to be clear,
Who’d hoot ’n’ holler at the children of God Almighty
About bow down and worship our statues, or else?
How Goliath hollered at David, but the rocks spoke rightly.
That talkin’ is a miracle, but this … this is something else:
How Balaam’s donkey spoke, clear as day heard,
The Lord’s donkey carried him and didn’t say a word?
