STILL, A GOD

 

Turn the god of poverty

Upside down he remains

The god of poverty nor

Will he be surprised that,

Though a god, he is subject

To such indignities.

SHONAGON'S DEMON

 

It was reported that

There was a demon

In the main room

Of the palace. At first

There was some upset

Pairs of guards walked

The corridors some

Wearing tall hats, others

Twanging bowstrings.

Towards dusk someone

Ordered food; the demon

Sent word that dumplings

And a glass of wine

Might be an agreeable way

To begin negotiations.

EH -- A LIVING

 

The god of poverty, himself

Desperately poor,  survives 

On the pittance he gets for being

The god of wealth’s shadow

WITNESSES

 

Though everyone knows the Abbe

And the Countess have long

Been lovers, for the sake

Of discretion when they walk

In her ordered garden a footman

Follows ten feet behind, sweeping

The ground, erasing all 

Evidence of their passing. If I were

To join them their ghosts would

Startle, deeming me impertinent 

But I think the footman might welcome

A bit of company. We'd try to guess

The words we can't hear.

CLARIFICATION

 

You are not the first to ask but

I'm not Mary; I'm Yashoda and this

Infant at my breast isn't Jesus but Khrishna.

Stay If you're in the market for a miracle

My boy may be of some use to you.

EXCHANGE

 

I thought, my father says,

That being dead releases one

From all responsibilities. 

God, shrugging, says,

Now we know different.

TARA WHO COMES IN TEN COLORS

 

I thought to introduce my mother

To Tara who grants protection

From eight great perils including

Pirates and mad elephants but found

They were already acquainted.

There used to be, my mother said,

Many raging elephants and more

Than a few pirates strutting

Through Patchogue -- this was before 

You were born. Why do you think

I grew up to be so durable?

OCCUPATION

 

When the Annunciation Angel drops by, Mary

Is often depicted reading a book though

When most of these pictures were painted

Female literacy wasn't common. Still, I suppose,

She needs to be shown doing something --

Something that can be gracefully set aside

With perhaps a flower hastily put as a mark

In a story she'll never return to. She could, perhaps,

Have been shown making puppets but that

Might seem  a bitter commentary on her fate.

Juggling dishes or eggs? Opportunities enough

For an ingenious painter but think of the crash

If the angel startled her! Or, if she caught her eggs

Or dishes or (if she'd rare talent in the juggling line)

Her eggs and her dishes, where to put them down?

It won't do for her first words to God's messenger to be

"Here -- hold these for a moment, would you?"

FROM BOTTICELLI

 

Mary and the angel bow

To each other. The angel 

Thinks "How calmly she takes

This astonishing news!" Mary

Thinks "He spoke his lines well!

Is this, I wonder, a time to ask

If being the Mother of God

Will entitle me to wings? If so,

Large or discreet? White? Blue? Gold? 

Or maybe rainbow or something

Radiantly viridescent?"

DRAWING

 

Survivors of a shipwreck, some with wings,

Clamber onto shore. A winged horse -- not Pegasus --

Is tied to a small tree that believes it's a palm.

Two winged men --was there a sale on wings? --

Wear hats and argue over a length of rope. 

The figures and the rocks seem French or Italian;

The tree to the right, though, is Hiroshige's. It's plain

These trees, rocks, horse and men are all castaways

From other drawings, waiting to be rescued. Meanwhile,

They've kept an open space in the middle distance

In case Mt. Fuji should appear turning them all

Into citizens of an ukiyo-e.

ONE MORE ANNUNCIATION

 

The painter Memling sighs;

They've sent, for this Annunciation,

An apprentice angel who is just

Getting started in the trade.

The Mary, experienced and kind,

Gives him his cues and does her best

To look, once more astonished. Above her

A bleached raven pretends to be a dove.

Two younger angels crowd in. The one 

With green wings stares fascinated

At Mary's robe, fingering the fabric.

The pink winged one looks at the painter

Solemnly, daring him to laugh.

IN CALIFORNIA

Cold sunlight moving slowly
Downhill, breaking itself
Apart to cross a stream
Reforming to move —
More briskly now —
Towards two crows discussing
Something in a parking lot.