Parable us, God,
and let us become like listeners
who do not already
know the punch line.
Let us feel sharp again –
of watching a sibling’s welcome,
resentment at a lazy co-worker’s bonus
equal to our own,
a split wineskin of old worship
stuffed with new music,
embarrassment at a safely-buried
and the memory of rubber laid down
dialing 911 on the road to Jericho.
The Bible has teeth.
Bite us and don’t let us go.