FOR AESRED

One of the perks of being God
Is existing while not existing
Ayin, who does not exist,
Prays to both, but not
At the same time.
Her shadow
Has holes in it
For which it blames
Moths who are sworn
Servants of the locust's god.

LOCUSTS

The locusts, it is known, have no king

Cats, however, have one, and also

A prince-in-waiting, a regent,

A power behind the throne,

A power beside the throne,

A power beneath the throne,

Three pretenders, a shadow cabinet

And an Empress Dowager.

It is hard for an ambitious locust

No king to disobey; no god

Whose existence he denies.

SATURDAY'S POEM

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 24^th 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 25^th 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!