The games God plays

A stippled line of birds concertinas 

across the sky, an enormous person, 

dressed in fluffy clothes, reclines against 

Table Mountain then becomes a duck

someone's thrown a horde of zinc plates onto 

the ocean's face, the glare's unbearable

a massive black head pops through the skin

takes a nibble of the air, the sun lolls 

ever closer to Robyn Island as 

if we don't know it never sleeps

the black head implodes on itself 

disappears as if though it never was

and there, a plume of misty water appears.

I'm waiting for the green flash I never 

seem to see, clouds gather on the 

horizon like a charging army 

on a dusty battle field, which makes me think 

that God is running across the universe

and if later on tonight I should happen 

to see a shooting star

I'll know, that God was just playing marbles