God comes by, once or twice a week.
Sometimes he waits a bit on the veranda,
Shifting his feet. His shoes squeak.
Then he knocks gently on the door.
"Hello", He calls out."I have something here."
 
God, I must explain, invents. Sometimes He's a bore.
I remember, a while back, when He'd made a frog appear.
He was quite pleased. It perched on his hand and burped.
"Nice." I'd said, to encourage Him. "You want a beer?"
We'd sat, sipped beer.  Then, the other day
He came to me. "A problem," He'd said.
"My house, my yard is getting full.
Things chew my clothes. They sing all night.
I can't sleep. They bite my hand. They pull
The socks out of my drawer. It's not right"
"Well," I said, "Why not figure out a way
To get rid of them? Make them fall apart."
"Ahaa!" He said, "I hear what you say.
What an idea!" He said with a start.
And then He stood and held his breath.
"That's great!" He said. "I'll call it death!"