November 10, 2009 at 10:19am
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Acceptance Criteria
Your eyes
were manufactured wrong
an alarm rung through
heaven's factories
when you, in clay, were done
smoke from the oven still
rising from your being
"there is something
wrong with it," they said, examining
you from your forehead
to your nostrils.
"No, no, no," said the quality super. "You've made
it too shiny,
too indifferent, too dark and lonely."
"He is cheating, this bastard," laughs one of the
divine workers, his wings fluttering, feathers
falling all over the place. "He will become
such a
poet!
with such
unwarranted power with those eyes. . ."
Someone tumbles over
the lever: the storks
are let out from their cages,
you are taken
by a swift one,
from the
hands of the worker, who withdraws
immediately.
"You idiot!" screams the super to the
fallen angel, now getting up
grabbing his back.
It is not really too much
of a problem. The super is new. He is
trying to impress The Big Guy. Poorly made
people are born everyday--this one's
mistakes were interesting, but not devastating:
Do you look at them in the
bathroom, the doors locked, the exhaust
droning, the smell of lavender and soap about you
like a fog--
Do you understand why
I find them so
compelling?
