IT IS EARLY MORNING, I HAVE HAD NO COFFEE AND BABA YAGA IS ALREADY ON MY CASE

"Your muse is worried," said Baba Yaga,

"Two years almost you've been retired

And you still have not written Paradise Lost."

"Why should I even want to? John Milton beat me to it."

"Dazhe tak, we feel you're growing slack. Even Cardea,

Goddess of door hinges, said so the other day."

"As far as I know, I am Cardea's last worshipper;

If she wants me to write Paradise Lost, tell her

She should, like a proper goddess, come tell me so

In a riddling dream which I can misunderstand

Or disguised as Madonna or Justin Bieber."

RED KITTEN

I have a friend (the Countess de Shufe,
If you must know) who was so appalled
At my allowing a hypothetical red kitten
To be sacrificed in a poem that I have decreed

Its rebirth as a leopard of such ferocity
That it will terrorize nine entire provinces
And be placated at last only by a seat --
Non-voting -- on the UN Security Council.
(She wanted him to eat Justin Bieber
But I have, with difficulty, refused her this.)