Saturday, March 15, 2014


There are many Anne Milton poems. Deal with it.

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.”

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