In the Next Life, Canto III, stanzas 339-344

The look he gave her now was so intense,
she wondered if her nose had multiplied.
She thought she really ought to take offense,
but Ciral said “Go on,” and she complied.

“Well, don’t you see? Our god created us,
while they invented theirs to fill a need.
The carriers with faith produced more, thus
their deity’s success was guaranteed.”

“I almost have it.” She could hear the strain
and see the signs of struggle in his face.
His lips were in a laugh; his eyes showed pain.
Of all emotions he’d at least a trace.

“I’ll twist your answer, Esther, so it fits
the question after which it would belong.
You cannot ask that question with your wits
kept weak by what they need to keep them strong.

You’ve inadvertently produced a gem.
You’ve written what you don’t know how to spell.
By telling how you’re different from them,
you’ve drawn a most important parallel.”

“I hope you aren’t attempting to impress
me with your little riddles,” said the girl.
“If so, I’m sure you won’t have much success
until you learn to talk without that curl.”

©2011 Louis A. Merrimac