"Get out as early as you can,

"And don't have any kids yourself." - Philip Larkin, "This be the Verse"

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The words of Larkin come to mind while,

In Mary’s backyard, Adam and Eve

Get shushed and pushed from out the garden.

In the living room Joseph stares at the

Near-extinguished fire-pit. And Mary’s visitor,

Saint Gabriel, folds his arms as if annoyed,

And shares this news from right outside:

“I’ve just expelled the man and wife,

And now it’s up to you

To expel another from your womb:

One who’s life will make the world brand new.”

Mary is less shocked than, like the Angel, annoyed.

Who sent this messenger on such an errand?

Who dictates that these things be done?

And why not snap a finger and say all’s well?

Why not have my lazy husband, staring at the fir-fed fire,

Turn his life inside-out and save the planet?

But these are questions for the rabbits. Or for God.

Outside the Garden gates, rabbits

Frolic in flowers, plashing dew,

Carefree as prehistoric germs;

In a world devoid of me and you.

Above, God looks for what he knows

Has passed among the angel and

The two unfortunate dead souls.

He holds the law and some pink shawl,

Emerging from a void black hole

Combined with rays of dazzling gold,

Illumined like a fiery bulb.

There is no time in triptychs (this isn’t even a triptych),

There is no story here.

There is no this then that and then comes this.

This is Mary’s house,

The Garden of Delight in her backyard

With Adam and Eve emaciated and depressed,

And Joseph’s fireplace beside the foyer.

And Gabriel showing off his bi-locationality.

And there’s no ray of spirit

Descending on the Virgin’s womb.

There is no dove.

There is no baby Jesus.

And this is exactly as it all looked, too.

This is exactly how it looked.

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