Wild Reincarnation

He slept a while and when they called his name
he slept some more. The coach to Heaven left.
He woke prodded by the anti-celestial tines
of a pitchfork which he reckoned, by its heft,
was being wielded by a devil of large size.
‘You’re a big devil, aren’t you?’ he said. He tried to smile.
The devil flung him hindmost into a haystack
which needled him. This was no way to while
away the aeons he knew he’d be waiting
his turn for yet another reincarnating.

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