Tapping

One foot on a ladder,

the other, a bird feeder,

nine, maybe ten feet up in the air,

I need a tool that is in the house.

Tap, tap, I go

tap on the window.

But the wife is busy Googling.

I thought you were

making that noise with your work!

she tells me later, in innocence.

If I were inside a coffin, tapping,

I think she would say, offhandedly:

I assume he’s enjoying the afterlife.