With Hermes missing, some of my relatives
Take over his duties. My Great Uncle Dan,
Old and unrelenting, is acting god of travelers.
My grandfather Joe answers thieves' prayers.
Edith, my father's sister who died young,
Has a provisional psychopomp's license
But, it's become plain, doesn't actually know
Where Hell is. She leads an increasing troop of the dead
Around the City all day; at night she puts them to bed
In the attic; as pro tem god of merchants I'm exploring
The commercial possibilities of dead souls.
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