Creation Begins Again by T. J. Chapman
A room outside the universe:
God sleeps and dreams. Next door:
Imagination, astride Memory’s hips.
They kiss, and in the joining of their lips
And hips and other secret parts
They make light of dark. A child screams.
It is a kind of fiction born of abstract things;
Delighting in examining reality
Searching flaws to stick a knife-blade in
Filleting skin, baking on a platter
That universal meat and bone. God rejoices
In the presentation and forgets what
Raw origination had the flesh now on the plate.
Since moving to the suburbs, God has lost sight
of what was (at least in the beginning—according
to his zealots who were not, although devoted, present
for the actual recording of) his universal scheme.
He stretches out his legs and reflects in his old age
Things today are nothing like the way… He sleeps
and dreams. Next door, Creation begins (again).