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in a silent way
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the devil started shaking
the day his son was born
he was convulsing
he was twitching
his filthy hair was shorn
and he watched it fall
in thick black lines around his feet
he watched it fall
with one hand he drew his child
from his bed of thorns
he held him up in the harsh light of day
with the other hand he pricked his finger
to draw first blood
so he could see it was the colour
of his holy evening flood
he called for pen and paper
to capture his thoughts
a trembling servant fell to her knees
clutching fresh-cut wood
and a small polished stone
she said, "this is all i could gather"
and she cast her eyes down
he brushed the side of her face
with the back of his hand
said, "you can raise your eyes to me
better still, you can stand"
she said, "it stands to reason
you will kill me if i do"
he said, "you're dead already
what's the worst thing i could do to you?"
she pressed her nails deep into her palms
"these legs of mine cannot be trusted," she said
then she saw the child in her master's right hand
with the faintest trickle of red
falling from one finger
to the smooth white sand
she threw her head back
she began to weep
a high, choked sound
she didn't know if it was joy
or shame
or shock
or something that had no name
the child stared at her a moment
and then he did the same
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