CREATION

I remember when you determined

To create another person. Unfortunately,

She had already been created so you

Had to shoulder God aside, which proved

To require time and resources

You’d allocated for other things. Then,

She didn’t fancy being your creation

It turned out she’d been all along

Slyly altering you in various ways

And then changing her mind or yours --

You’d go to sleep on the hard ground

Of your monastic cell only to wake up

Your tonsure gone, and with a soul patch

A hangover, tenure at a community college

And several quarrelsome cats. For now,

Both of you are living as best you can.

On the run from crimes you’re fairly sure

You didn’t commit. For now, both of you

Are welcome to hide here but I expect

Tomorrow morning will find you gone.