SUPPLY PROBLEMS

 

Thx for yr order

Regret infrm o/o nightingales

Cn supply nightmares, nightjars, nightrobes,

Martingales or gallowglasses.

Lightning rods on order expect soonest

We appreciate yr bsnes 

SUBSTITUTION

 

During the present

Emergency my great uncle

Dan has agreed, grudgingly,

To play Hermes but only the

Psychopomp bits. Caravans to

Hades will leave each

Afternoon at 3:45 and arrive

By 11 the next morning because

That's how long the Twentieth

Century train took to get from New

York to Chicago when Dan

Rode it in 1938. Those wishing to book

In advance are advised to purchase

Tickets from Dan's wife Jenny and

Not from Jenny's brother Joe.

 

BREAKING THE LAW

 

The purpose, old Ruskin said, of Art

Is to arrest a sunset. Never mind the charge;

We'll figure one out later. Mixed, unlicensed colors

Have smeared streaks across the sky?

Rely on it; something illegal's happened!

ACTOR

 

An ancient Greek actor, if he'd read the manuals,

Spent hours before performing lying

On his back, summoning the voice

Of the character he was going to play. 

He'd lie down again afterwards,

Letting the voice and character go.

This was a dangerous moment; 

An interruption might leave him half Orestes

Or two-thirds Queen Jocasta.

 

AVE

 

His wife had little money so the tombstone 

Was roughly made and the lettering's uneven.

After two thousand years, though, it still

Wishes you well, passerby, and wants you to know

That Stracco the gladiator fought fairly, won eight fights,

And would've won nine but for a treacherous judge.

Inter Deos Minores

 

Portunalis was the god

Of keys. Or, some say,

Of harbors or gates

Or perhaps the warehouses

Where the Romans kept wheat.

There's no record of anyone

Ever praying to him nor 

Sending him thanks for 

A found key or because

Their stored wheat stayed dry.

Forget about sacrifices! His flamen --

The Flamen Portunalis -- 

Had only one job which was

Once a year to ceremonially grease 

The weapons held by a statue

Of Quirinus, a more important god.

That a poem's now been comissioned

For Portunalis puzzles me but,

Though I write poems, I don't know

Why most of them are written.

PARTNERS

 

When I was in college I wrote

Any number of poems in which Death and I

Were close friends. In some we rode motorcycles;

(He'd trouble keeping his robe from getting tangled;

The wind blew his cowl back as we sped along.)

In others we wandered or looked for work 

Or called each other on the phone or had fights.

I haven't written like that in years

Content to deal with younger Deaths,

Either children or young businessmen

Who'd feel ridiculous holding a scythe.