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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