I will be curious about what it has picked to wear
I will ask it, what are you doing here? are you
hungry, or thirsty? I will have prepared
a list of what I’ve been reading,
most of it electronic, so, sadly,
judgement will not be able to flick
through the pages or lift the books.
I assume that judgement will want to see
each room in my house, so I might ask
where would you like to start? I will
of course have taken a nap if at all
possible before its arrival, because
I will want to be well rested,
since a visit from judgement is probably
exhausting: on the other hand,
I wonder if judgement will have
extended me the small courtesy of asking
for an appointment? or will it assume
that I have time no matter when
it sets foot on my doorstep?
No, judgement, I no longer keep
regular hours, and when you drop by
I may have taken myself away,
away to the Okefenokee Swamp,
as I’ve longed to do; or I may have
assembled the best of road snacks
to travel the length of the Mississippi,
stopping in river towns to see
just how the water flows. When judgement
drops in, I will certainly be watching
daffodils unfold themselves from
their papery jackets, I will be taking part
in the annual blossom census,
I will be drinking rose tea with
granddaughters. What I am saying
is that judgement will have to wait
its turn for a spot on my agenda.
What I am saying is, judgement,
please call my people to see
when the next convenient opening is
for an embattlement: all I am saying is,
I will have time for that never.