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 do not 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