WHEN GOD WAS A CHILD
the lightening was black,
and it crackled through a purple sky.
Angels writhed in the mud,
and the first demons were tiny black seeds in
flowers of flame.
My uncle was there, practicing rope tricks,
and my Aunt Patty, stirring water in a bowl.
Cacti played tag with bison in the ocean trenches,
and they were nearly crowded out by stars, flowing
like pearls from a store-room door thrown
Gladness and terror collided,
and the universe rang like a bell.
It rings still, now, in our bones,
and God looks out our eyes with careless grace.