Just a mistake

It was just a mistake,

which I suppose all things are

like how I’m holding her hand

with my fingers loose around

her knuckles

the way an innocent man

grips onto an electric

chair

as she adds that

that was a mistake too,

which I suppose all things are

like the uncontrolled

splatter she sits on

sired from soft fingers

that could squeeze until

they slipped from

the stuff of life

that one day dries then dies

with our todays

like when she says

I’ve made a lot of mistakes,

which I suppose all things are

like the Earth that pours lava

down peoples’ throats

and sells hurricanes as hairdryers

and has humans as the sum of all,

though lava and hurricanes

are known to be more

humane than us

for she says it was all a mistake,

which I suppose all things are

like when the Universe bumbled together

after tiring from the

surrounding emptiness

to create light

out of nothing

only

to create nothing

out of light

some other day,

some other Universe too,

where there are no mistakes

but just bliss in the beginning,

and in the beginning

there was darkness,

but not like this.