A drawing of the sun

If I were in charge

I would have everyone draw

a picture of the sun.

They’d all get the same paper and markers

and scribble their own version.

Like a proud teacher

I’d hang them all up

all billions, one for every person

and wait for god to stroll by and notice

the chicken scratch of the children

the even lines of the adults

And when he gave his approving nod

and walked on

I would try to find the doodle of the sun that looks most like the one in my mind.

Spherical and white, not yellow, and wet, not hot but warm, like closed eyelids,

like wax smeared across construction paper.