Devolution

I see God in your eyes, undressing.

He's fallen into your pupils

and is slowly disappearing.

I needn't have looked; you told me.

It took fifty years; for me, twenty;

I feel man turning to ash, as his bride

animals reclaiming sea

green dissociating from leaves

light abandoning particle or wave

until there is but Let there be darkness.

Why this darkness?

God is in a diaper, and it is wet.

There are no nursemaids.

Alas, it's come to this:

gone the universe,

or some other place,

that used to be the gaze,

or some other sense,

lapping, or some other devotion,

at the constellation

or something similar,

of freckles, or some other birthmark,

due west, or perhaps northeast

of one's, perfect, or nearly so,

navel, or, you know.

Copyright Julianza Shavin 08/08