The finer points of bad behavior
A little catholic schoolgirl that once
was me tumbled notions which seemed
contradictory around in my six-year-old
brain, what could the differences
of mortal and venial sins confer
if separated only by degree, and why
did Jesus have so many brides
when the church clearly did not
if I was bad, originally spoiled,
how did mumbled chanting,
repeated over and often,
do anything at all
to absolve such daunting fate?
By high school I’d given up contemplating
such lofty matters of faith,
and threw my lot in with the sinners.
Or not, I hear Pope Frank is working hard
to de-obfuscate some of the church’s
thornier tangle of dogma and bureaucracy,
though I fear he’s probably too late.
He doesn’t want to give up his plate
of daily spaghetti, or work out in
the Vatican gym, and is already laying
groundwork for putting his two-years’
notice of papal resignation in. He’d
rather go eat pizza, god knows
I can’t blame him.