Slightly True Stories by Christopher Richards

Idolatry

Listen to Idolatry

Behold, thou art glorious, No. 2 pencil.

Thine is the yellowness of a thousand suns,

thy pomegranate-tipped shaft so valorous.

Look upon us with generosity.

It is through thy power our thoughts are made manifest.

It is through thy power the muse doth speak.

Save us from oblivion, we beseech thee.

O, eraser, erect in thy pink firmness,

destroyer of imagined worlds,

lead us not into error,

and stay thy wrathful obliteration.

O, pencil lead, creator of imagined worlds

that doth caress our virgin paper

with thy tenderness and life,

our willing page lies open to thee.

Thy generosity is infinite.

Thou givest of thyself

to the grinding and gnashing of the pencil sharpener

so that we may live.

O, No. 2 pencil, thy bounteousness is infinite.

It is through thy soft and comely tip

our borrowed words burst into being.

And, lo, thou lovest us, as we lovest thee.