Sonnet #43 on the carnival of God
A song was played. Heaven and earth were formed.
A garden made, where naked bodies warmed,
until the worm slithered from past’ral glade
and with the germ of doubt innocence slayed
and from the leaves of figs we played our game –
the game, which thieves still play to shift the blame.
Covered our shame, leaves over hubris weaved
Naked dance tamed, we dressed in brittle sheaves
But from the dust of Adam, rose a tune –
a tune we cussed, which piped the earth’s last moon
the singer crooned in holy, joyous lust
But we in anger slew and stripped unjust
The piper piped. We did not dance his jig.
but hid our joy with barren leafy fig.
Phil Wyman: Dim Saesneg 