EXCHANGE

 

God comes by sometimes to ask me

How my father is doing. "Still dead,"

I answer and God says "He always

Had that stubborn streak."

WHERE ARE THEY NOW

 

The Tigers of Wrath have fallen

Like other tigers; the Horses of Instruction

Hide in the sub-sub-basements

Of seldom visited museums, living

On moss and mushrooms. The fools

Still don't know that the follies

In which they persist aren't theirs.

TROUBLING QUESTION

 Do you think the new moon

Must keep the old one's promises?

ANGEL

 

His halo is a lop-sided triangle and

His different-sized wings are

Trapezoidal. His body is a line

Running from his head to

A triangle that means to be robe. 

His ears? Long and drooping.

His face is serene, drawn with

The last ink on a child's brush. 

When God calls to him 

From his dwelling on a page

Of an old book he will be ready.

WITNESS

 

In the last land, I've heard, they will call

A dog' to testify about my life and worth.

Finnegan probably; I knew him longest. A nice dog;

He'll do his best for me, making the most

Of my finding him as a puppy under a bush

And carrying him home in my pocket. Still, 

Dogs are incapable of lying. My best hope will be

That a cat -  Casey, if I can choose -- is allowed

To interpret for him.

BABA YAGA AGAIN

 

Baba Yaga says 

"I am immortal or

At least certain

To come back 

When I die.

I am equally skilled

At curses and

Granting wishes. 

I foretell futures

And alter paths.

Accusations of eating children

I neither deny nor admit.

I have green teeth.

I have a cauldron that can fly!

Why do you think

I'm not a goddess?"

WORSHIP

 

Every night there is a different god.

Entering through a small side door

They leave their attributes in lockers

And put on the peculiar hat and cloak

Signifying they're the on-duty god

To whom prayers should be addressed.

The identity of each night's god

Is supposedly unknown but certain priests

Discretely make themselves available

For bribes. This is money well-spent.

UNSYNCED

 

I was turned wrong so they waited for Dr. Lowenthan

To put me right. Because of this my shadow

Is ten minutes older than I am and begins

To show his age. Yesterday I was fine but he

Could barely get up stairs, even with a cane

That looked like none I've ever owned. Today,

Gout lays me low and he walks back and forth

Restlessly, with a great cast on his arm.

ABSTRACTED

 

The moon, tangled in the branches

Of Sara's pepper tree, tells the night

"Go on without me. I'll rest here a while."

ANNE

 

When I was 17 a girl sent me a letter

With a pin saying "Real Girls

Know How To Love." Unfortunately,

I was a boy and it took me fifty years

To figure out what she was saying.

That girl's sometimes turns her head

And shrugs at me from old photos

THIRD PERSON

 

The Holy Ghost hangs

By a string from

The chandelier. Touch it

And it spins. Ask it

For a miracle. Go on;

I dare you.

TRANSACTIONS

 

The year before she died Berthe Morisot

Bought back her soul. That her heirs sold it

To an American museum would have amused her.

IN CALIFORNIA

 

When I was 17 I stepped

On a snake while climbing

A mountain. Not a huge 

Mountain nor a large

Snake, but still. For 

Years afterwards I

Drew a snake on every

Letter or on the

Envelope. Sometimes

It wore a crown; sometimes

It spoke a few words.