Does the Lord get bored with religion?
She likes good deeds but it's the other stuff
the preening prayer and fluff
the same old same old groans
in liturgies and preacher tones:
make it rain make it shine
favor me favor mine
now and then a sincere sigh
for suffering that makes her cry
but mostly stale ideas frozen in time
pinned on her without reason or rhyme.
Snap the incantations
let the pope call a square dance for thousands in St. Peter's
“Swing your partner, come round right…”
or flood the piazza
for ice skating on New Year's Eve
gliding under confetti in his skimobile
bless you children one and all
or watch a supernova burst and shine
over pasta putanescha and strong wine.
He lifts a jovial bread and dances the unmasked ball
a sweating pontiff down to his pantalone and Gucci reds
circles arm in arm with stellar remnants
as his own last light dims in joy.
Some festival that.