This came to me while I was jogging today and thinking about the piece Cathy Kaveny posted on from Rev. Know-It-All:The twilight is hard On an old idolater. But he should have another look At that tattoo on her lower back. Granny should too, For that matter. Along with the contraceptive patch Strategically affixed so as not to obscure The artfully drawn stain That his holy water Cannot wash away. Which is not to say That an excess of liquidity Would not do the trick A fact of which his bishop reminds him daily. But hers is green and vigorous, Funding a graced economy. And his is brown and tepid, Hollowed out by years of inflation. Yet, even the greenest leaves Bear the mark of their own decay, As dew-wet flowers dry Into autumn bouquets. It is for these he eagerly waits To decorate the funeral mass In the days before her death When the sun will rise again On the baptismal bath Where, in spite of his over-excited articulation No doubt inspired by a fleeting return to relevence Only her silent babble Will again imply the consent Of an unwarranted salvation.