You invaded this monochrome planet,
won football games in makeshift chariots,
and shoveled the books into the fireplace.
From your trench coat of possibilities
you pulled candles, sleigh bells, scissors, a dog.
Joyful madness glinted in your child eyes.
You were grotesque and beautiful to me,
a force of laughter – a freight train, a bomb.
But now you take up your tool, your weapon,
and the comic thunderstorms cease at once.
You stop the world’s spinning, you command all.
Anemone fingers reverently play
on harp strings and heartstrings, on wire and air.
Now we are mute, and you speak for the Lord.
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