DOPPELGANGERS IN THEIR YOUTH

Since he's three years older than I am I never saw
My brother when he was a baby but there are
An infinite number of pictures of him every one of which
I've copied so I cannot be mistaken. The child
Pictured in a book I saw is his double and, ten months old,
Peers at me with that "I am an impenetrable mystery " look
That I could never master . The two former babies
Are roughly of an age; perhaps they met;
If they did, dollars to donuts it did no go well.

A BRUSH WITH FAME

 

It turns out that a writer I've never much liked

Had a chicken when she was six years old

That walked backwards. This apparently made

A fair stir; there was a newsreel about the two of them.

Knowing this is a relief. If her ghost comes by

Wanting to know what I think of her books

I'll say "Nemind that. Talk to me about chickens."

ATONEMENT DAY SERVICE

 

From their high gallery the women

Look through the pierced wall

At row after row of small ghosts

And Death himself, wrapped in a shawl,

His bony fingers clutching an old siddur

At which he never glances. 

A debate, of course, breaks out;

Some say that if God asks them 

They'll remind Him that some things 

Can not simply be forgiven.

WORD

"Days like this," said God,

"I'm glad I don't exist." 

PICTURE

 

The ox pauses, one hoof in the air;

The girl leading him by a thin rope

(Which he could break in a second if he chose)

Has stopped and looks off into space

She hears something or has just, perhaps, interceped

A message meant for you but delivered

To her, nearly two centuries away

Just as the afternoon turns to evening

Near the sixty-sixth station of the Kisokaido Road.

FORM

 

The angel assigned to check on Schrodinger's cat

Has had her job since 1935. After each visit

She submits a pre-printed form that says

"Schrodinger's cat is/is not/is not not alive."

Under "Additional Notes" she sometimes writes

"Changed litter. Fed. Cat wants to know

Why Schrodinger never takes a turn in box;

Told her I don't make rules and have never

Had a raise or been named Employee of the Month."

CHECKING

 

An angel comes by now and then

And knocks on the box, saying

"Cat! Are you alive?" 

The cat says "yes" or "no" 

Or "yes and no" or "neither yes

Nor no" or, if it's feeling cranky,

"Who is it wants to know?" 

COMPANEROS

 

When I was in college I wrote

Any number of poems in which Death and I

Were close friends. In some we rode motorcycles;

(The wind blew his cowl back as we sped along;

How hard he worked to keep his robes untangled!)

In others we wandered or fought or looked for jobs 

Or called each other on the phone or looked at stars

Until we fell --almost -- into the sky.

I haven't written such poems in years.

The Death I deal with now is young, efficient

Humorless; he wouldn't know

One end of a scythe from the other.

WHO

Wrapped against the cold

I no longer know

Which one of us I am.

A BURIAL

 

They were buried sitting upright

She was in his lap; his arms around her waist.

The man was given cleated hel-shoes

To make easier his march into death.

The woman was not; it was presumed

She'd ride in a wagon pulled by dead horses. 

Archaeologists think they'd each been given 

A pouch filled with foreign coins

Though the woman wound up with both

Because even dead witches have their tricks.

A spear was thrown into the grave just before

The dirt was shovelled back in to say

"Your way is forward; do not return."