on the first day
god told the planets to swirl around their orbits

and they swirl in my head

making me dizzy
flabbergasted

and dazed

when I try to figure out
the dark of eternity.






on the second
he added a mole on the witch's nose
to prove to his baby lambs
that grass isn't always as green

and the lambs have fallen

asleep
as it was an evening fairytale
with oval-shaped
unicorn horns

and laddered-towers

for the prince

and maybe they shouldn't.

on the third day
he sat

in a rocking chair

in a house brick-red in colour

near the fireplace and porcelain
tableware with one plate chipped
in that place when its floral ornament starts
just like roses climbing on the wall of his house.
and when they slipped

into the room through the open window

they immersed

into his afternoon cup

gaining the colour of tea






on the day that was meant to be the fourth
he made the water

fall

and the sun

rise

and the rain

bow

in the seven stripes

of joy that divided the sky

in two

on the fifth day he was fatigued

and his quickened breath blew the snow

off the sharp cloud-capped crags
so he laid himself on the carpet of moss

and it became softer

under the touch of his fingertips
and forest ants hollowed out underground corridors
along the lines of his fingerprint.






on the sixth day
he sank in his own shape stamped in the sand

and called the water by its name.

stupid water obeyed the order

and it sails there and

away
to this day.
waiting for the daddy

and when the stupid father doesn't come

it frowns its sea-foam forehead

and destroys sand castles

made by the children whose feet it encounters.






and in the end

on the seventh day

he laid himself

on the clouds of celestial

and became the birdsong
sung by Lady Bird.
now he doesn't weigh more
than the Lady's
spots.

In the number of seven.