Knight, With Umbrella

The difficulty with all
Forms of heroism
Is that they require
Appropriate occasions,
And that these are rarer
Even than heroes.
Counsequently, the hero
Waits and waits,
Exquisitely aware
Of the absence of any
Heroic way
To mail a letter,
Buy theatre tickets,
Or put on rubbers.

Most remarkable about
The older heroes
Is their luck in encountering
Punctual dragons,
Compliantly belligerent,
And maidens regularly
Requiring rescue.
I observe all this
A little bitterly,
Shivering
In rented armor
On an icy corner,
Late for the costume
Party, and reflecting
How long one waits,
These days,
Even for a cab.

Directions To The Armorer

All right, armorer,
Make me a sword—
Not too sharp,
A bit hard to draw,
And of cardboard, preferably,
On second thought, stick
An eraser on the handle.
Somehow I always
Clobber the wrong guy.
Make me a shield with
Easy-to-change
Insignia. I’m often
A little vague
As to which side I’m on,
What battle I’m in.
And listen, make it
A trifle flimsy,
Not too hard to pierce.
I’m not absolutely sure
I want to win.
Make the armor itself
As tough as possible,
But on a reverse
Principle: Don’t
Worry about its
Saving my hide;
Just fix it to give me
Some sort of protection –
Any sort of protection—
From a possible enemy
Inside.