Author's Note: The poem reads:
Dog knocked on Papa God's door. No answer.
"Papa God! Papa God!" he called.
Papa God came to the door, bowed politely three times
and explained, "I have to warn you. The dead are already there. Peace and quiet (especially in the mornings)
will be quite finished."
Not until he had eaten all eight bones could his trade, through the kindness of people, return.
"Be glad there is someone feeding you so well."
It was late. Dog went home.
Since that time, the dead have never returned to the earth.
From, "The Magic Orange Tree and Other Haitian Folk Tales" collected by Diane Wolkstein
pages 68-69
It makes perfect sense to me. I hope you enjoy it.