Today, a cold sinner will
find warmth by sitting
around the fire in a pastor’s mouth.
but this sinner knows not that
communion is a purgative
which causes constipation,
so he’d eat one piece of bread,
and his tongue longs for another,
then a drop of vine on the finger
of a priest lands in his mouth
and quietens the turbulent desires.
So we may say God = father Abraham,
and every priest = Lazarus,
holding a droplet for each burning man
in this fire, we call life.
But when you pass by my shrine today
and hear me break kolanuts (of love)
instead of bread (of fanaticism),
do not allow liquid pity
flow from your eyes,
for it is better to walk with the gods
than to die in a small kettle
or be buried in the abyss of
a preacher’s pocket.
I have talked to the gods about you before
and I will again, today;
may you find your way back to the
in your hearts.
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