The Wolf's Postcript to 'Little Red Riding Hood' -- Agha Shahid Ali

(Poem #117)The Wolf's Postcript to 'Little Red Riding Hood' First, grant me my sense of history: I did it for posterity, for kindergarten teachers and a clear moral: Little girls shouldn't wander off in search of strange flowers, and they mustn't speak to strangers. And then grant me my generous sense of plot: Couldn't I have gobbled her up right there in the jungle? Why did I ask her where her grandma lived? As if I, a forest-dweller, didn't know of the cottage under the three oak trees and the old woman lived there all alone? As if I couldn't have swallowed her years before? And you may call me the Big Bad Wolf, now my only reputation. But I was no child-molester though you'll agree she was pretty. And the huntsman: Was I sleeping while he snipped my thick black fur and filled me with garbage and stones? I ran with that weight and fell down, simply so children could laugh at the noise of the stones cutting through my belly, at the garbage spilling out with a perfect sense of timing, just when the tale should have come to an end. -- Agha Shahid Ali

Central Park at Dusk -- Sara Teasdale

(Poem #116)Central Park at Dusk Buildings above the leafless trees Loom high as castles in a dream, While one by one the lamps come out To thread the twilight with a gleam. There is no sign of leaf or bud, A hush is over everything-- Silent as women wait for love, The world is waiting for the spring. -- Sara Teasdale

In a Station of the Metro -- Ezra Pound

(Poem #115)In a Station of the Metro The apparition of these faces in the crowd; Petals on a wet, black bough. -- Ezra Pound

Plague Victims Catapulted Over Walls Into Besieged City -- Thomas Lux

(Poem #114)Plague Victims Catapulted Over Walls Into Besieged City Early germ warfare. The dead hurled this way look like wheels in the sky. Look: there goes Larry the Shoemaker, barefoot, over the wall, and Mary Sausage Stuffer, see how she flies, and the Hatter twins, both at once, soar over the parapet, little Tommy's elbow bent as if in a salute, and his sister, Mathilde, she follows him, arms outstretched, through the air, just as she did on earth. -- Thomas Lux

Heaven on Earth -- Kristin Berkey-Abbott

(Poem #113)Heaven on Earth I saw Jesus at the bowling alley, slinging nothing but gutter balls. He said, "You've gotta love a hobby that allows ugly shoes." He lit a cigarette and bought me a beer. So I invited him to dinner. I knew the Lord couldn't see my house in its current condition, so I gave it an out of season spring cleaning. What to serve for dinner? Fish—the logical  choice, but after 2000 years, he must grow weary of everyone's favorite seafood dishes. I thought of my Granny's ham with Coca-Cola glaze, but you can't serve that to a Jewish  boy. Likewise pizza—all my favorite  toppings involve pork.  In the end, I made us an all-dessert buffet. We played Scrabble and Uno and Yahtzee and listened to Bill Monroe. Jesus has a healthy appetite for sweets, I'm happy to report. He told strange stories which I've puzzled over for days now. We've got an appointment for golf on Wednesday. Ordinarily I don't play, and certainly not in this humidity. But the Lord says he knows a grand miniature golf course with fiberglass mermaids and working windmills and the best homemade ice cream you ever tasted. Sounds like Heaven to me. -- Kristin Berkey-Abbott

Advice from the Experts -- Bill Knot

(Poem #112)Advice from the Experts I lay down in the empty street and parked My feet against the gutter's curb while from The building above a bunch of gawkers perched Along its ledges urged me don't, don't jump. -- Bill Knot

The Psychoed -- Hugh Mearns

(Poem #111)The Psychoed As I was going up the stair, I met a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today, I wish, I wish he'd stay away. -- Hugh Mearns