b'shelach

"Eleven plagues" ain't got that certain ring
we're out of fingers, having tallied ten.
But smiting first-borns somehow spared the king;
he's leading the pursuit with chosen men.
The Sea's the weapon to defeat the Nile
no cherub, and no seraph, and no elf
can do what God cannot, by force, or guile.
The Pharaoh's got to do this to himself.
The Israelites sing, dry-shod, on the shore
while God upbraids his angels for their mirth
let mortals revel in revenge, and gore
yet He's diminished by each death on Earth.
The narrative begins in flowing blood
and ends with Pharaoh stuck fast, in the mud.