Maybe it was the hair shirt; then again
Perhaps the locusts he ate while he was alive
Do not sit easy in his stomach;
John the Baptist’s mood has been bad
For better than two thousand years. The angels –
Those who don’t still regret our making –
Worry that, his power waxing on St. John’s Day,
He may undo the world. As June 24th approaches
St. John cannot walk down a street in Heaven
Without being hailed into a bar (You thought
There were no bars in Heaven? Infidel!
What sort of place would it be without bars?)
He’s plied with wonderful beer, glass after glass.
Angels carry him home to sleep it off. The world
Totters on for another year. June 25th is St. Eurosia’s,
The patron of bad weather. To soothe John’s feelings
Her day will be wet and grey and full of thunder.
Coming soon: a story about Mot
To my German reader: Thanks for reading!
To the singular Venezuelan: Bless you!