For the Love of Hope

The sheep “make love” to worship, not for sport.

“Oh, God… Oh, God…” Oh, God! He hears you, now!

He busts as on the altar you contort.

I pray for him to gag the holy cow.

Some “fuck.” The goats would rend the temple walls.

“I’m bad! I’m naughty–beat me!” Though, what shame

is there in play, like children kicking balls?

The goats’ and sheep’s intents are all the same.

There is no stranger of the cosmic jokes,

that we should live and die and dream of love

that culminates in swift emphatic pokes,

a funny face, and cries to one above.

Let loose the cuffs, and lay aside the staff;

She moans, and wails, and cries so He might laugh.