Five Acts
Christopher Stein

I.

I bloom in the arms of the day air

sheets of me roll out from the mind

slip off one another by some molecular peculiarity

bring me into form by the word of God

don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t Creation


II.

I am enfolded in primordial soup

floating in the feeling of brown and ochre and tan together

my hair takes shape in the dimness

gather it into a bundle tied

don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t Creation


III.

I’ve stood on the stage let men bid for me

sold to the man with the gold tooth

cover my screams with paper

bring me with you a gift to give other people

don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t Creation


IV.

I lived daily in the shadow of the walls

bent like a beggar against a cedar board in the street

they are pulling me up with a palette knife

touch me up dear and

don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t Creation


V.

I’m warm at last again in the embrace of the day air

can finally let go of that held breath

new again today or at least newly formed

feed me to the furnace

this too is Creation