I saw visions of God on a nut.

I saw the face of God
on the side of a cashew .
A neighbour told the papers and
that’s when they started coming.

People from Bulgaria,

Nigeria,
Mexico
Italy
Dudley.

Flocking to my door to gaze upon the exalted nut,

to touch it
to be in its presence.

Weakend men in dressing gowns
slippered shuffled,
dragging oxygen canisters behind them,
just to touch the nut.
 
Bald cancer kids were taxied in.
A small industry grew,
hawkers selling
cups, tea towels, t-shirts,
fridge magnets,
mouse mats,
postcards.

Musical key rings with a nut dangling from metal links.

Some sold replica nuts made from plastic,
some carved them from wood.

The press pressed against the pilgrim’s.

But one day the crowds dispersed and parted,
for new news had arrived,

an image of the Lord had been found in a skid mark
in a Wal-Mart parking lot, somewhere near
Nebraska
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