Help Me Title a Poem About Jesus and Freezers
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.