Father McGovern,
Sitting (surly) on the porch
Of our home
On Hostettler Road;
Long-neck beer
In front of him
On the railing.
Cigarette in hand;
Less than a smile on his face.
Family function.
Extreme unction.
In play, like a goad.
Poking propriety;
Grins & mild-sneers,
Populating popped-eyes,
While sailing:
Looking for lost lands,
Or any other safe place.
Were we lost?
Stip-step, star-crossed?
Tip-toeing on frogs-legs & toads?
Water turned blood;
Gnats & lice.
Flies & Boils.
Nothing nice.
Thunder & breath;
First Born & Death.
Fr. McGovern,
On the porch,
Uncomfortable as he can be;
Long-neck beer,
(Brown-bottled brew)
In front of ’im,
Hand on his knee.
Cigarette in hand.
Pasting nothingness on his pasty face.
