Member Poem

on the seventh day God rested
and as He slept His subjectivity splintered
skin cracking like cicada husk to powder
subdividing like cells like blistering mitosis
each cell a living god
and the breath on the water cast the seeds
like mustard like figs like twists of sycamore
spiralling

and the God-spore rooted where it landed
across the universe like yeasting dust
in the foundations and the high places
upon the rock amid the bushes
in the deep soil and the shallow
and became life
abundant and abounding

and so God woke to regard Himself
male and female created
all sex and neither
peering out of so many eyes
beneath so many secret crowns

and the politic angels fell lamenting
when they saw the empty throne
and cast at its foot their broken diadems
heaped atop sceptres of iron and gold
long laid by
for of regal sceptre there was no need
and god was in all