Other days God seemed severe,
but he was always hardest on himself.
Curious, he watched Mrs. God,
the way she distanced herself
from disasters.  Especially the ones
he himself unintentionally set in motion.
 
All God asked for was eternal work.
Luckily something was always broken.
A virus began to kill all its hosts,
Or claws needed sharpening, and afterwards
He had to make them retractable.
Weather was a challenge,
 
finicky, like those old carburetors.
But gravity turned out perfectly:
hummingbirds could fly, but people
didn’t float around, and two legs worked fine.
Mrs. God’s radiant smile, yes, he gave that
to the sun, and all the stars, and then to Eve.