When you come
you’ll reach to take what
I’ve clutched tight

You’ve done it a lot
— especially lately

You did it to that unsuspecting lady
when she stepped off the bus
on Philpotts Road

To that sleeping girl
with the mousy hair in
the children’s ward

To her father three months later

To my own dad while he prayed
by the bed and slumped

To that old pope who shook
like a wet dog in a sou’wester

I read again last week how you visited
the homes of those who wouldn’t
splash blood on their doors

Now that’s something!

I know what you want and I’m onto you

When you come I’ll be ready — I hope
and I’ll hand it to you without protest

But I have a request, if I may, and I hope
you’ll ask on my behalf:

Please don’t visit her before you call on me