Anthony DiMatteo

Don’t say words are sacred

or I will never open my profane

mouth, my sordid eyes and ears

distilling the world into me, vapor

of stars trailing through meadows

of dew. God said let there be light,

no neologism intended, more like

a flick of a finger or a blinked eye.

It was not a hemistich searching for

a rhyme, night having little to do

with light. He belched out the universe

and retreated to his cave, the scent

of his robes leaving flowers horny

in his wake, syntax of the galaxy.