God was on trial.
The judge wore a false turtleneck,
Had a moustache of smoke.
His gavel was a yo-yo he’d
Sleep hypnotically like a child.
There was an air of great excitement,
The floor obscured by smoke.
The courtroom had no ceiling.
The jury was mostly Greeks
Wearing 3D glasses, discussing
A Catholic pinup from the 50s.
Everyone was waiting for the defendant
To be brought from his cell.
A mob with pitchforks pressed
Against the westwork.
They had spent the day
Amassing a pyramid of firewood.
Has anyone a match? they
Called out. It was a miracle
But no one did.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment