poem for January 10 I took St. Jude
to have and hold
as my confirmation ranger
in a clapboard dusty pew church
I attended at parental gunpoint. C'mon Saint J,
I thought under wafer breath
as I slouched to the altar
so a bishop could lay fear
on my mohawk stiff
with egg white misery. C'mon Saint J,
patron of blender dump life
and safety pin girls.
Give me an empty uterus,
hip music parents,
some sign you sip my confessor's cup. I bent my head shy,
let God's man brush my forehead
with heavy silver precision,
and I rose saved lashes
to see his distaste.
Saint Judas with the gold coin (As not to confuse him with the other one with the silver) The only apostle that is still a Jew patron of the pinche the saint of lost causes only has the name of the lost cause this is just a coincidence look the other way.