by Paul Saint
If I would not perish
then the task before me is to gather about myself
the mantle of life and leave behind the bomb flag
of ceremony, celibacy, and circumcision.
For there is unity. It’s been found again
it has one name but many speakers
it is in the water of life
and it comes undivided.
But most of all it’s in me
where do we go?
There are the men in robes and hoods
there are the women in rosary harems.
Genuflections in madness
assassinations of pontiffs.
Piety that is left laying in the pew.
Give me a crown of thorns, and I’ll give you a creed
let me have absolution, and I’ll give you my sins.
Resurrect my soul in bee’s wax
and drown my babies in holy water
stifle my brain with incense censors
drone on with the pander from the pulpit
eucharist my tongue with communion platters
you want wine. We serve blood:
here is the prodigal son from desolation road.