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!
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