My Mother Eats Jesus

Pope Benedict XVI

In honour of the resignation of this jewel-encrusted, sanctimonious turd, I present one of the first poems I ever wrote.

My mother eats
My mother eats meat and potatoes
Bleached and leather tough
My mother eats
My mother eats crow
Dished up a drunk
Hard to swallow
My mother eats
My mother eats Jesus once a week
Once every day during lent
Difficult diet
Designated by Cardinals
And
Priests
And
Popes
Men one and all.
She says,
To her little man,
“One day your whole life
Will
Fall
Apart.”
She says,
“You’ll realize you’ve got to
Hold on to something
Bigger than yourself.”
So,
With the belief my life was
Destined for disaster
But
If Jesus was in me
The skies would part
And
I would know
I ate
I ate meat and potatoes
I ate
I ate crow
I ate
I ate Jesus once a week
Once every day during Lent
For twelve years
But
The menu grew boring
And
Being freer to transcend
Than
My mother
(Forever forced return
To altar
To stove
To cloister)
I finally figured out
Transubstantiation
Was a not so white lie
Those starchy little wafers
Don’t taste like any man
I’ve ever had
In my
Mouth.

AGG Sometime in the Eighties

Advertisements