Equable

C’mon God, she said, don’t you find
Me amusing anymore? Ay?
Don’t you want to keep me around
A little longer, keep me here?

It was an unusual prayer,
Perhaps, but no more intimate
Or inappropriate for two
Such status-divergent beings

As a nursing-home resident
And the Almighty Creator
Of all the universe she knew
Than most evangelical pleas,

Which can range from cures for cancer
(Often one’s own) to politics,
To party napkins, to getting
Kids to listen. (Soften their hearts

And bring them unto you, oh Lord.)
If she had more moxie than most,
It wasn’t in what she asked for
But in what she claimed for herself,

And why not? If your Creator
Dwells within you, wouldn’t it be
Better if you were amusing?
Her wording suggested she knew

Her death would leave God without her.
Why wouldn’t God want the party
To go on a little longer?
Sadly, God proved even-tempered.