God came to Anne
Milton’s house
One wet November
night to find
Satan in the
kitchen drinking tea
With just a
touch of something in it
To ward off the
chill. Satan nodded as if
It was the most
ordinary thing to see
His great
friend, his eternal foe
Contracting
Himself so that his head
Barely scraped
against the low ceiling.
Another cup
appeared; Anne filled it
Angels crowded
around the house
Peering through
windows, listening at doors
Having hastily
made for themselves bodies
From mist or
smoke or gutter-fallen leaves.
Abetha Gill,46,Anne’s
red-haired maid,
Drove them
briskly away, saying
“This is a
respectable house; we’ll not have
Angels larking
about. There’s the Queenshead
Three roads
over. It is filled with demons
But they have
manners. Pay for your own drinks
And there will
be no problems.”
No comments:
Post a Comment