This is supposed to be forgiveness made easy:
Rip up some bread and toss it in the water. 

Try to find current. Too often streams are lethargic 
in these global warming days. Don’t come with dog. 

He might eat the crumbs, prance around.
Really, we’re supposed to take this seriously.

Clutch the crust and divide, divide. 
A half of a half of a half…

still leaves remaining sins, 
places we fell short of the impossible mark. 

Don’t wade barefoot if you value your toes. 
Our witnesses, those nippy fish. 

Make sure not to do this in Florida. 
Alligators have tiny brains. 

Avoid barricuda-infested oceans, 
though you could entertain visions 

your psychic baggage bobbing like Styrofoam 
on the open sea. Today in the news, 

the Endangered Species Act threatened again. I’m not sure 
who’s affected. Some rare form of porpoise, or crocodile? 

An obscure one-eyed fish with a rainbow palate? Or maybe the dog,
a species of one in our hearts, though he died years ago. 

Yes, yes, I forgive 
the dog for eating the river’s bread, ask his forgiveness 

for shorting him a romp when, I, too, felt lethargic. 
Does he forgive me for the day I gathered his bulk 

in my arms, let the vet sink the needle 
as he peed a river 

over my pure white shirt—his final act?
This forgiveness thing is more like a rock than a crumb, 

a shard with points, a cesspool 
with only the tiniest outlet 

for flowing water. Close your eyes. 
Think of littered waves, 

endangered species:
fin whales, big-eye tuna, 

African wild dogs, hatred 
you might feel for all those who’ve wronged you, 

acid swept off in the white foam. 

*Tashlich is a Jewish ritual on Rosh Hashanah (the New Year) where Jews drop crumbs of bread into flowing water to cast off “sins” and ask forgiveness.