Recalling the Creation Account

Recalling the Creation Account

‘And let them all be lovers of the light, 

and throw themselves against all sources of 

it, searching for a fix—and when they hit

the chilly concrete stoop, all jumbled up

in disarray, let them forget their past

mistakes and try again, again, till they lay 

in little furry lumps, their little arms crossed, 

scattered around the faded Welcome mat.’ 

It’s something like this—I just can’t remember if 

this was the day when God created men or moths—

or maybe it was possums, like the one
my front-left tire just kissed goodnight, tucked in

to sleep between
the curving yellow lines.