End of Reverence


‘If the kindred be wild,
I will not baptize the child,’
crookéd-letter humpback
church taking stock
of relations out of wedlock:

inner ministers
of misery, grifters
of sanctus spiritus,
misers of charity;

judge not,
you juggler of pigbones,
poser with cobbed colon,
preyer of prayers
for pieces of eight and power
over the wistful.

May the Redeemer
slap one cheek
and the other in turn
of the pardoner
that turns away
the blissfully born.

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