Westwind

Help Me Title a Poem About Jesus and Freezers

AJ Urquidi

You see, I was eaten by the freezer section,

While Pop was hopped in a stretcher sketch

And Epsom salts shook for gypsum chums.

 

Sweet Mother of God, your boy has died,

And wafers are terrible things to waste.

 

That’s not what I told the police.

 

We don’t have last suppers in America,

We have dinner, we eat meat, we eat fuel-injected TV blood,

IV tubes to Pop’s eyes to TV tubes to pop eyes

Heckled and flexed in a passionate chest.

 

A uvula meat hook gives pointless advice, but hey,

That’s the way His Body crumbles,

Beards on birds with worms on ice.

 

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