Better to Be Born An Animal

This black responsibility In Wednesday ashes

As our dirty teeth Caress the body of Christ

Monks cower

Behind the walls

Of  cathedrals

The Gregorian chant

Tranquilizes our spirits

Quasimodo strains at the ropes

Of Big Marie

And Gabrielle

We are reminded of rodents

In a skinner box

As we scamper

For wafer and comfort

Clouds of incense

Rain blessed waters

On corrupted bodies

Covered in sores of sin

From the ramparts 

Above the gorgons

In baritone gravitas and purple vestment

The shepherd counsels the immigrants

Give money to the poor

In St Francis’ behalf

He will intercede 

Before God

In the night the liturgy 

Skulks in the shadows

There is a clanking of keys 

And furtive locking doors 

From inside the churches

If we are very quiet 

We can hear Francis

Giggling through the incense 

We can smell marijuana

And hear women moan

Perhaps the English are right

True love is abuse

By Giulio Magrini

From: United States

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