By Pavel Chichikov
God had flesh, the devil none –
He culls each willing body
God is love, the devil one
Inside a solitary
A bachelor of the fifth estate
He marries never, or too late
I see him walking Sunday morning
Self-sufficient, not depressed
He seems uneasy in his clothes
And yet immaculately dressed
He looks the same as you and me
And is the same implicitly
He is the mirror on the grave
In which I look to wash and shave
I am the father, he the snake
I give instead of bread to break –
All the bodies of the earth
Are home to him – he needs no birth
Sterile, sterile, lord unholy
He lives inside the living solely
Those he eats are death in him
And so we generate one sin
He the deadly simulacrum
Christ restore our true reflection
(Click here to follow Pavel's ongoing epic poem “The Shoulder of the Sun.” You may visit Pavel's website at http://www.greyowlpress.com.)
