PETITION

God leans His back against a pillar
And tells the servant girl a story
There’s a giant in it and so giants
Wake up to find they exist again
Quickly, they send a delegation
To plead with God to make them wise;
They grow so tired of being oafs
Easily fooled by tailors and farmboys
Tripping over their feet or falling
To their deaths from cut beanstalks.
Would it be too much to ask
For just a bit of grace this time?

REPORTS

The dead sent me a delegation last night

The men were in elaborate formal clothes

Tail coats, top hats; ready, if needs be,

To discuss the surrender of Japan.

The women wore long dresses and broad hats

Prepared for dowager walk-ons in early

Edith Wharton novels. Their leader asked me

Why do you fear us? We wish the living well;

Do you not get our messages? Put on a sweater;

Water the cactus; avoid peacock feathers

Which bring no luck with them. Never give a knife

As a gift unless you wish the friendship

To be cut off. Your cats rise when we enter;

Your dog backs stiff-legged into a corner

But you try to ignore us, reading your book

When we bring instructions -- urgent instructions! –

On the only proper way to fold laundry

Or clues to the hidden names of God.

The abyss has not eyes to see; it borrows mine,

I brace myself, ready to be seen through.

Then it returns them and I discover

It ignored me, distracted by a squirrel.