“For the least of these”
Goods in their stolen shopping carts piled high,
the homeless labor down this frozen street,
and there but for the grace of God go I.
Replete after my feast of wine and meat
I fall asleep, dreaming of squeaking wheels.
Tonight Fargo must feed three thousand meals.
Last night I delved deep into David’s Psalms.
Needing to gain some weight
I musn’t fast, but fate
granted me ample means for giving alms.
Prayer has salvific power when it calms
the wild spirit within
or expiates a sin.
Kneeling, I shape a steeple with my palms.
For flatbread crackers innocent of leaven,
red salmon caviar,
cream cheese and cucumber
I thank Thee, Lord, then die and go to heaven.
I’ve so many transgressions to repent
I am my Pastor’s poster boy for Lent.