Mel Gibson Poem

The Catholic Nazi
bathing in the lavender religion -

our bodies
(with outstretched hands)
form the shape

of crucifixion

and our hearts
don't matter
but beat hard, and fatter
for the inflammation
of shame

we are hopeless
to hope for change.

The Catholic graffiti,
ash on my forehead

bless me
bless me

four stories up
jump -

you are smiling in my face,
the everyday hypocrite
with a golden Miami hooker in her
golden velveteen

crucifier -

and I am made to believe you.
I am made to embrace your truth.

But you know those Catholic boys
with their booze,
their vanilla erections,
their sparkling alter boy faces,
their Latin declensions of hypnotizing 'maybe-love',


spitefully, I'd gladly remind him
that jumping just gets you where you're going a (hell) of a lot faster.