← v16n1, Spring 2017
Poetry · Volume 16, Number 1

i know who you are

the monk’s tonsure is his crown

they prey on you, these priests even they

have quotas to meet

the atheist is but a child

aggrieved by the perceived

indifference of the father

i am the fallen communicant call it

the “fortunate fall” wafer and wine

are just wafer and wine

enjoy your life,

font of blasphemy your path

is lined with wormwood

and your bed, like mine, with worms