One Single Non

One single non-rejection slip
Would do on this waste earth
One tingling drip, or nip, or sip
To vanquish thirst and dearth.

Came from too far to ring at doors
Into some Land of Nod
And if its gates keep shut, it’s force
Majeure, an act of God.

Should flout them doorbells, should despise
Odd Nod’s beleaguered curse
Should walk back home to Paradise
Up there it can’t be worse.

January 18, 2016