Let there be more darkness by Robyn Hitchcock
And on the eighth day, when he had rested, he created darkness.
And for all around him he needed a cloak to hide himself from his tired labours.
And the antelope and the deer and the ostrich and the zebra hid
Their faces and ran like tiny children
Into the shrivelling blackness around them.
And the trees grew hoods and the cows winced.
And all the crops began to droop.
Even the coal rattled in terror for, lo, there was no light anywhere.
And he was well pleased with his labours and he smiled and was unable to find his way out of the room.
Consequently, he blundered around his new creations;
stamping helplessly left and right upon the new buds of his endeavour.
Octopuses, caterpillars, tendons and worms were squashed like buds.
Easter bunnies ruptured like eggs.
At length he found the door, and, fumbling with the handle,
He chanced to knock the key on to the ground.
As he lowered his nose to rummage around that vast appendage where he might see something on the floor,
Beheld a ray of light coming in from the hall.
Mom, I'm locked in!
Kevin... Supper's ready!