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 as
leaves reflect in brutal perfection
the color of Earth
reduced to boredom
and 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 erecting
cypress groves to resemble
fractured stone on the statue’s
face suddenly a bell
purrs for the descending plague
the forest ejects odors
of darkness when 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
in sardonic agreement
rubs his paws in anticipation and without
concern for decorum jeers: who cares?
Libros Libertad 