Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Genesis

I.
Light is my garment
and darkness my cradle.
Once nothing, nothing, nothing,
now I sit on the deep, laugh and
clap my hands. Hey Daddy!
Our foreheads touch.
You tell me I’m good.
You hovered over me
like a mother when I was
surfaces of dark and deep,
full of emptiness and thick with water
neither air nor ice nor drinkable.

II.
Now oh, the beauty of being! of being
his, who said Be to me, who
named lovingly my head and feet
both land and sky, who
lit the globes of my eyes on fire
to warm the fruit of my womb with goodness
day to living day. He said Let
and I listened as
the beautiful chaos of youth split seeds
and a thousand eggs began to crack
and a million spines starting flinging
the ocean in handfuls from side to side.
Creatures full of a strange light have told me
he has done a new thing now.
I have been told I am beautiful,
that there is none like me.

III.
Where is the limit of your wondrousness?
When I’m so full of light and love
my hot core threatens soon to burst,
I wake with fiery eyes to find you
arm-deep in wild imagination.
You see me watching, put a finger
to your lips and smile.
Today your hands are caked in my dust.
You’ve gated the best of me
off, caused me wonder. Your tongue
peeps from a concentrated mouth,
disappears in a toothy smile,
reappears to click two syllables.
A-dam. A-dam. A-dam. A-dam.
You delight in the word and I wonder.
Adam Adam Adam Adam—
what’s it mean? There is
unparalleled joy in your eyes.
You scoop the stringy lump of clay
tenderly in hand and leap with it
nimbly over the gate.