First Hour
At the time of indifference and
its absurdity their novice
teenage God debuts
with His know-it-all
stance giving the trees
their first tears and
leaves reflecting brutal perfection
color of the Earth
reduced to boredom
as I stand on the promontory
trying to enclose the infinite
between two parallel grooves of skin He
splashes beaches with
yellow sulfur the little creeks
with rainbow trout stigmata and
other marks defining
the alive stench of silence as He erects
groves of cypresses to resemble
fractured stone on the statue’s
face when suddenly a bell
purrs for the descending plague
the forest ejects odors
of darkness and the young God
is asked to trade His leisure in
heaven with edema of a
horny virgin’s pubic mound and
the mature eavesdropping wind
shoots stars with a Yes
while a greedy deacon smiles
his sardonic agreement
rubbing his paws in anticipation
and without concern for decorum
jeers: who cares?
Hellenic Canadian Literature 