Last Joke Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

The Last Joke
My friend at the old people`s home was dying
the heathen had taken a sudden interest in religious
matters, especially the sweet parts of angels and
harp playing on a cloud, the dream of man, tiger
and the lamb was sitting by the lake liquid silver.
He grew, as he weakened, restive asked me to pray
aloud by his bedside, to please him I did.
"Please, God let Oliver be and angel and teach him
how to play the harp…amen"

A howl of laughter from the sick-bed that ended in
a cough, the old bastard had got one over me.
He died that same night with a smile on his face.