THE PAGAN KILLING JAPANESE BEETLES ON THE FEAST OF THE ASSUMPTION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY

You have many flowers–
Our Lady’s Cushion, Our Lady’s Mantle,
Our Lady’s Shelter, Our Lady’s Shoes,
Sweet Mary, Mary’s Shawl,
Our Lady’s Fingers, Mary’s Gold–
but only one beetle.  Not yours,
these beetles turning my beanleaves to lace.
They belong to the devil.
What did you assume
I’d do about them?
I drown them and they stink.
I pinch them;  my fingers are sticky.
They are more in number
than the stars in the sky.
Pray for them, if you will, Mother of God,
now, and through the hours of their deaths.

APOCALYPSE

What if the world is ending now?
What if the bees
are never coming back?

Garlic mustard is invading
everywhere. I can’t begin
to pull it all.

What if the maple trees
and earthworms
move away?

What if the sky
becomes a plastic dome?
I think the wars will never end.

I live in the country.
I have to drive everywhere.
What if all the wells run dry?

I’m making compost
out of everything.
I’m trying to write this poem.