All of God happens to you now, Birthday
Boy, no escape, no exit, no machine
Jaws powered true by love to peel away
The twisting chassis wrapping like a screen
Around you, showing all the images
You hoped would never ever come to light.
And if you could, if you could just adjust
The wheel a little left, a little right,
Or if you hadn’t just then gone and blinked—
But of course everyone has one of these
Coming their way, it isn’t what you think,
It is a crash at first but ends up as
A flower made of light and wrapped in gauze,
And your lips end up rhyming gauze with God.