Rahab’s Dance — In Celebration of My 40th Birthday 29 Years Ago

Forty winks, 40 years, 40 days and 40 nights.
Forty martyrs, 40 thieves.
Forty-rod whiskey, strong whiskey! Forty pounds of steam.
A man achieves full strength at 40.
In Spain, they say the pig has 40 flavors, all of them good.
Joshua wouldn’t be caught dead in a 40-acre field with a pig.
Joshua’s 40,000 tribesmen are camped east of the Jordan.
Hardened by 40 years in the crucible of the desert,
the tribe of Israel waits.
The desert now behind them,
the promised land ahead,
one obstacle detains them.
Jericho, once a proud and mighty city,
now degenerate and secure
behind 40-foot walls.
God takes out a personal in the Jericho Daily News.
It reads:
Wanted — traitor. In exchange for helping my children, 
you and your family will be spared certain death.
All replies strictly confidential.
Rahab, 40-faced liar.
Rahab, outcast among her own people.
Rahab, oh sweet supreme harlot
living on Jericho’s walls.
Rahab likes all 40 flavors of men.
She will hand over
this ripe plum of a city to Joshua’s outstretched hand.
‘And she dwelleth in Israel even unto this day.’