DEMON

Long ago I heard or read the story

Of a nun who was possessed by a demon.

An exorcist was called, then two, then three

Then all that could be found in the province.
They labored long days and into the nights.

Crowds gathered; the Abbess threw the gates wide

Lest some child be crushed by those pressing

To see within. It wasn’t Easter but the bakers

Came selling hot cross buns. Under a tree

Puppet devils dragged puppet Faust to Hell.

At last, pale and shaken, the demon came forth

He fell on his knees and kissed the ground;

Would have kissed the Bishop’s hand too except

The Bishop slipped it behind his back.

“Thank you, gentlemen all! A little wine –

Not consecrated, mind you! – and I’ll speak.

Two years ago it was, at least; an August day;

A hot sun; the drone of pollen-heavy bees;

What wonder that I should lie down?

But gardens are dangerous to more then men.

“I am not a large demon; I made myself less

And settled on a lettuce leaf to drowse

Remembering inconsequential things

Musing, half asleep, I was defenseless

When that large white hand swooped suddenly down

Tore off the leaf, and me still on it,

And swallowed us whole! May you never know

The things I have seen, nor experience a tithe

Of my sufferings! Not for all Hell’s riches

Would I return, nor for a share of Heaven

Would I spend one minute more listening

To the dark whisperings of that nun’s heart!”