THANKSGIVING

Puddle ducks are surefooted

And run well. Black ducks

Are often seen with mallards

Who are the most common ducks.

Black ducks can mimic mallards

Pretty exactly and are said to be

The wariest of all ducks 

Widgeons, though, are nervous too

And quick to take alarm. Their flight 

Is erratic, filled with sudden turns; 

They are not above stealing food

From diving ducks such as  buffleheads

And mergansers. Shoveler drakes 

Call out loudly, going woh-woh or tuck-tuck;

The hens, when they get a word in, quack feebly.

THE WOMEN ON THE BOAT

Every time an Arthur dies Bedivere

Throws the sword into the water

Where a hand reaches up,

 Catches it and brandishes it

Three times. A boat

Sails slowly towards shore

Crewed by three tall women

Except for the times one

Or another of the queens

Is occupied or ill or

Would rather not spend her day

Rowing to the Isle of Apples.

Those times one of the women

May be short, even stumpy

May, in fact, be Baba Yaga.

She makes a passable crone

Once she puts away her pipe

(And just where does she put it?

She has no pockets;

Better not to know, perhaps)

And as long as she doesn’t smile.

Matron is more difficult

And she’s an impossible maiden

Preening and being brazenly bashful

Fluttering her lashless eyelids

Still, she’s always available

And the contract requires

Three women and a boat

Every time an Arthur dies.

TWO FRENCH SAINTS

St. Genevieve is the patron saint 

Of Paris because when Attila the Hun

Approached her prayers, it's said,

Made him march instead to Orleans.

She was hard to drown, performed 

Miraculous cures and healings,

Could read minds. Her presence

Made candles light themselves.

It is impolitic to mention her

In the same prayer as St. Aignan,

Sandthrower, cloudwatcher and

Patron of Orleans who felt that,

At 93, he was too old

To have to save his city again.

Every November 17 Orleans sells

Gingerbread pigs in Aignan's honor.

Don't even try asking for one in Paris

MEANWHILE, IN THE WORLD OF IDEAL FORMS

The cat of whom 

All other cats 

Are shadows 

Lived for a while 

With the Platonic Ideal 

Of Plato. Plato-ness 

Felt that catness

Should feed herself 

Or perhaps subsist

On the idea of food.

AT THE TOURNAMENT

Since fair maids were thin

On the ground just then, needles

Stood in for them, holding

Themselves straight, flirting

Bright lengths of thread.

Pins kept their heads down

As became the common folk.

The princess stood alone

A twist of embroidery thread

Trailing from her eye. She had,

It was whispered,

Acquired a taste for blood.

BUYING FROM IFRITS

After the Third Avenue El was torn down 

People on its route woke up often, saying 

"What was that noise I didn't just hear?"

Ifrits came by, knocking on doors

Selling the echoes of trains going by

None of them from the Third Avenue El

But sufficiently like to allow some sleep.

The foreign train sounds brought with them

Improbable things and to this day 

Third Avenue ghosts will sell you a ticket

To places you've never heard of or knew

How much you wanted to see.

PATRONS OF THIEFTAKERS

Protasius and Gervasius came to see Bishop Ambrose

In a dream, interrupting one in which the Bishop

Had been teaching some bears to sing counterpoint.

They entered with a flourish of horns and choirs 

Of seraphim. The bears refused to leave the dream

And sat towards the edges of it, growling 

But quietly. Even bears know better

Than to challenge martyrs and seraphim.

Protasius spoke for both, saying that he and Gervasius, 

His twin, were martyrs who died when Nero

Was Emperor. (“No,” said Gervasius; “it was Diocletian.”

Ambrose suggested a compromise; perhaps Marcus Aurelius?)

"Anyway," Protasius went on, "we're dead and buried

In your cathedral without markers. Felix, though,

And Nabus, have railings around them and an inscription

People stand on us to speak with them. Perhaps

You might want to do something about this 

Remembering that we, though patrons of haymakers 

And thieftakers, include swords and clubs

Among our attributes." In Milan now

The brothers have a large, slightly gaudy shrine;

In one corner someone has carved several small bears

Who seem to be singing in counterpoint.