The God Who Got Away
The mountains and the mountain path
he briskly walked along
took shape around him and beneath. –
Have to move fast (he thought,
enjoying himself)
to avoid “having” to do anything,
prevent this stuff becoming metaphor
or otherwise inappropriate, and
save time.
Friends, holidaying or expat, passed
through and beside him, tossed
boulders and lightning, raved
or sat in state upon a higher peak.
Monotheistic distinction
meant less to him than you’d think;
he could dispose of them any time
if time were not deferred,
and they him.
A value like a threatening cloud
or bird appeared, dissolved; he was relieved.
His incarnate foot
came down on something and was cut;
and from the blood and stone
all yearning, envy and ecstatic grief
(so gritty, so determinate!)
aspired towards his flight, his ease …
That was enough of that.
Towards evening he created
the tuxedo and found
a table overlooking the bay,
in but not of the light and chatter.
Clowns circulated, throwing rolls,
critiquing hair and ties
( – clowns are the rage along the Shore, a little
gravy among the diamonds doesn’t matter!),
and laughter rose, and scraps of song, and flies.
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