Poem After 2nd Corinthians 12:7

A messenger who gets thrills when he buffets me
with downhome---"aw shucks"---and antique philosophy,

is still in my prayers that he might be saved, or gone
from my purview:  let this poem be the verbal carriage

of what young Mary Milton, middle child of John
(who stunted her emotions as he thought right) said

when she was told about his third (and final) marriage---
knowing the kind of heresies that he had spread
(with no regard to spiritual blessings that it might cost)

despite poems abut Samson and Paradise Lost.



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