Whatever my wish
I know you are coming
When you get to the door? Don’t knock;
Don’t bother to take off your shoes
When you walk in? Take your time at the stoup;
Wash your hands and rinse the froth of your last smoke,
The residue of your last meal.
You are free to pour the Holy water out;
Replace it with the tears of your joy,
Your amused contempt and pity at this living I’m bound for
Then with your wet finger draw the Nazi emblem on the door
Before you dry your hands with the helm of my frock;
And grab the incense thurible to warm your fingers;
And tear off my white collar to make yourself a bowtie
For the cocktail of Holy communion
Turn my god into a toy; Paint his lips red,
Shave his eyebrows then draw them back
Then take the offering basket, wear it a hat on your head
And smile sinister, back at the now-knowing congregation
Condemning my age; commending your novelty.
This is your house; and everything in it
If it isn’t you can own it as so you have
Just since your whim willed it
This poem is part of the April 4th 2011 Freedom Poetry Competition. You have until April 29th 2011 to read and vote for it. Please comment and indicate your opinion of the poem on a scale of 1 to 5.