Genesis & Exodus

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Goddess, girdled with rattlesnakes & lowered
to earth on a thread: Forbid us
our trespasses. Some have defecated
holding your image. Others tickled
the boneless children. I myself
ate a first-born piglet.

She of the one-and-a-half buttocks wore a headband
of kangaroo teeth & lingered on me her sateless eye.
Opposable pinkies bulged inside her petticoat.
She plucked me off my sphere with a scaly tail,
suctioning my seed into her leather pouch.
God the Cuckold filed a paternity claim,
spurious.

They christened me sunshine though I was a heretic
moon-worshipper. I had my shot at lunar trysting
chaperoning our child to deity school.
We swanned across a lake fermented
by our hissy pilot. A gourd dinged ripe,
whippoorwill racing the sky—already recess time
with woozy drunk leviathans. I flipped the kid a dime
for a blowhole ride before all the chalk-cracking seraphs
came to recite the word, as the goddess once breathed it.

                              Earth was then excreted
from a worm pinched by the Goddess’s fingernails.
Earth is still supported on an unkissed frog’s back.
So are her feet. To not squash the moon, an igloo
of dwarves. How God pesters her with gnats.
Her attorney hurls back two entwined corpses
born from a virgin’s big toe.
The scholars have yet
to form agreement.

                              My son safely a parrot,
I escape to loose reeds the sirens won’t trace
to couple with the moon
in her puberty hut—
                         lightning flashes
an asterisk,
the goddess’s
ring tone.
                              Right-o, I’ll light up
this globe any minute now. Today I’ll be god
of hanged owls, where’d I leave my feathers?
Don’t mind me. It’s the python that got away.
Someone call the tuba polisher.
I’m tired of policing this menagerie.