Jeff Mock
A Theology of Everyday Objects
The brown ring on the counter
Represents the grace of the living
Coffee mug. Only
Thimbles will save us, thimbles
And river stones worn
So smooth that birds swallow them.
Only postage stamps
Are fishes. Only gloves
Are loaves. Water, though,
Water from the tap, water
In a glass, water is always
And only water. Water
Is only water, and it is only
Wine, and it is only the mist
In our eyes when we glance out
The window into thick fog.
Jeff Mock is the author of Ruthless (Three Candles Press, 2010). His poems appear in American Poetry Review, The Atlantic Monthly, The Georgia Review, New England Review, The North American Review, The Southern Review, and elsewhere. He directs the MFA program at Southern Connecticut State University and lives in New Haven, Connecticut, with his wife, Margot Schilpp, and their daughters, Paula and Leah.
Return to September 2019 Edition
The brown ring on the counter
Represents the grace of the living
Coffee mug. Only
Thimbles will save us, thimbles
And river stones worn
So smooth that birds swallow them.
Only postage stamps
Are fishes. Only gloves
Are loaves. Water, though,
Water from the tap, water
In a glass, water is always
And only water. Water
Is only water, and it is only
Wine, and it is only the mist
In our eyes when we glance out
The window into thick fog.
Jeff Mock is the author of Ruthless (Three Candles Press, 2010). His poems appear in American Poetry Review, The Atlantic Monthly, The Georgia Review, New England Review, The North American Review, The Southern Review, and elsewhere. He directs the MFA program at Southern Connecticut State University and lives in New Haven, Connecticut, with his wife, Margot Schilpp, and their daughters, Paula and Leah.
Return to September 2019 Edition