Complaint for Uriah

With a youngest chosen son’s rule the exam proffered—
the grade finally met, right? Pass or obvious fail?
A man, please,
finally deem me—after Your own heart, offer
please, declare me. Flat this world seems and stale
its nightly squeeze.

I know the rooftop stare. One eye fixes on one
drop of bathwater at a time, magnifying one speck
of wedded skin.
She not mine never be though the circuitous want,
the inevitable draw down, give up, sigh and ask back—
last shreds of sin.

You know me like the intricate acorn tops you layer.
You know the waste of freedom granted at birth.
Somewhere a sheep
bleats in a pasture I once knew, like I once knew prayer.
Within the spin this world provides, help me find mirth
and then a gentle sleep.