The Four Horsepersons Revisit Amherst

Because I would not stop for Death
I met him at Starbucks for a latte.
My plan – much madness in divinest sense
was to approach him halfway -
let him decide I wasn’t worth the effort.
He’d ditched the scythe – sports an ear bud now

but he was distracted from the whole reaping gig.
Famine was texting him
about a new line of celebrity cookware
she was flogging on the home shopping network -
the truth must dazzle gradually.

Alas, in every take of the demo
she was deemed unappetizing
just too “zero on the bone”
her publicist cum personal trainer scolded.

Then Pestilence breezed in
with her new squeeze, Fallout.
the latter, a shady friend for torrid days
was rumored to be making a comeback.
She had just got fed up with War and his
zealotry and territorial jealous rages -
she was looking for someone
with more staying power I guess.

Though War, spinning his own campaign blog
in the corner, is coming along nicely -
it may be dreary to be somebody
and inscrutable to be nobody
but it is absolutely crucial to be
“an army of one” -
“a cavalry of woe with
her rusty ammunition”
just doesn’t reach his target demographic anymore.

And I hear Pestilence herself
is expanding her influence
with European sprouts and gene mod. salmon
and a TB and dengue fever resurgence.
She still dabbles in animal vectors
and though the avian flu petered out
she is determined that
hope is the thing with feathers.

But – the soul selects her own society
so I slowly back away from these jokers -
Imps in eager caucus who raffle for my soul -
though in withdrawing I barked my shin
and pressed my palm to the scrape
lest anybody spy the blood    

(with a little help from Emily Dickinson)