Job in Other Legends / Riccardo Trout

Like hours the spindly whirls of ash lifted
In little cyclones and fell down again.
He watched the dirt, grateful to watch the dirt.
Passing clouds laid a purple light across
The dirt and the few blades of grass he watched
Realizing he had never watched the dirt before;
He’d never thought merely to watch the dirt.
And suffering’s consolation is in this
Dumb stillness newness and the eyes remade.
Like babes who weep for newness without name
He quietly wept for this clear new thing
Until at evening after some three days
Of lying prostrate on the ground to pray
Not quite beyond God but almost, almost,
This Job spilled dust and ashes up his cheeks
With unexpected laughter and he choked
And then that was when he got him up
With ash stuck to his face in sores and tears
Coughing and swiftly running through the earth
Laughing and praying that it would be worse:
O Lord please give me suffering even worse,
O God set all your wrath against me now.
The floor before him opened without sound
And Job fell into the black earth
Laughing knowing God was with him still;
He spun and twirled and fell and fell and fell
Until he gathered up himself enough
To pray for worse Even worse than this O God
And so a spindly spike of stone impaled him
Right through his belly, and his limbs dangled
And his teeth had mostly been smashed out.
He could not speak but still he mouthed it Worse
And all the creatures there that God removed
Declaring them unfit to roam the world
He now unchained to feed upon the man
Reaching their spindly necks to rip the flesh
All feverish and bludgeoning each other
But Job got a good look at some of them
By the small light of the molten earth,
And in a way they were so beautiful
But there were thousands.

Riccardo Trout is from New York City, but has recently moved to Detroit, to work as an
assistant editor at the Detroit News. He is a longtime versifier.