Sunday, October 28, 2012

Grief and Sparks

Do you remember what the bishop said?
A series of elaborate remarks
Impelled by puffing sounds and random barks,
Unusual impressions of the dead,
And patter songs. The matter in his head
Was like a mix of perfume, grief, and sparks.
He praised Isaiah and the patriarchs,
Then split his pants. His face was very red.

You take these lessons in humility
With equanimity; it wasn't you
Being embarrassed, was it? You puffed, too,
And you also performed some mimicry,
But your pants didn't split, and I can't see
Isaiah on your lips. Still, yours turned blue.

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