“God has declared victory!
God has remembered God’s faithfulness!
All the ends of the earth have seen God’s triumph!”
so the psalmist says
I missed it — perfect and
indicative though it may have been.
Already victorious, O God,
while still our wars rage and ravage?
while your people struggle
and weep in the streets?
Something is not quite perfect, I think —
tell me where does this world indicate you?
Let the psalmist sing to his own glory,
strum in a corner on his harp.
You, O God, are either
far more fantastic and able
— or far more vain —
than I have given you credit for.
Let the dangling preposition
bear witness to the imperfections.