Alfred Nicol

Wretched Rocco

            And they were astonished out of measure, saying among themselves, 

            Who then can be saved? And Jesus looking upon them saith,

           With men it is impossible…

                                                           Mark 10:26-27a

There’ll be no place for you, pesky Rocco.

They’ll lose all trace of you, nudgy Rocco.

Too many angels on a pin—

they won’t be squeezing tomcats in.

There’ll be no place for you, nudgy Rocco.

They’ll want to fold their wings and rest;

you’re an unwelcome little pest.

There’ll be no place for you, nudgy Rocco. 

No scratching at the gate, prowling Rocco.

No snatching from the plate, slinking Rocco.

Saint Pete will shout out, “Nothing doin!’”

He’ll direct you to your ruin.

No scratching at the gate, clawing Rocco.

Don’t wail and claim you’re innocent;

you’ll wake Elijah in his tent.

No scratching at the gate, prowling Rocco.

You’ll fast while others feast, thieving Rocco.

The last shall be the least, sneaky Rocco.

In the land of milk and honey

naughty cats will not get any.

You’ll fast while others feast, thieving Rocco.

When the blessed wine is poured

you’ll get to lick a dried-out gourd;

you’ll fast while they all feast, thieving Rocco.

No miracle of fish, whiny Rocco.

No mackerel on your dish, griping Rocco.

As the Saints go marching in

they’ll toss your way an empty tin.

No miracle of fish, irksome Rocco.

There’ll be no scrap that you can ferret

in the world the meek inherit.

No miracle of fish, irksome Rocco.

We get what we deserve, wicked Rocco.

You’ve got a lot of nerve, wicked Rocco.

While saints are singing in the light

you’ll still be howling in the night;

you’ll get what you deserve, wicked Rocco.

Don’t think that it’ll be a lark

because you’ve always loved the dark.

We get what we deserve, wicked Rocco.

Don’t look to me for pity, wretched Rocco.

I’m not on the committee, wretched Rocco.

When the omniscient Judge has tried you

don’t depend on me to hide you;

don’t look to me for pity, wretched Rocco.

You’ve witnessed how I choose to live

and things the bishops won’t forgive;

don’t look to me for pity, wretched Rocco.

You’ll share the misery, wretched Rocco.

Beware of what’s to be, wretched Rocco.

Your crime was being born a cat.

The fitting punishment for that?

Eternal misery, wretched Rocco.

Although your fault’s no greater than

my fault of being born a man…

we’ll share the misery, wretched Rocco.

We’ll have to pay for our mistakes.

Let’s see how long forever takes.

Forever. You and me, wretched Rocco.

Alfred Nicol's new collection of poems, After the Carnival, is scheduled for publication in 2025 by Wiseblood Books. His previous books include Animal Psalms and Brief Accident of Light, a collaboration with Rhina Espaillat. His poems have appeared in Poetry, The New England Review, Dark Horse, Commonweal, The Formalist, The Hopkins Review, and The Best American Poetry 2018. Nicol’s translation of One Hundred Visions of War by Julien Vocance (Wiseblood, 2022) has been called “an essential addition to the history of modernist poetry.”