Tarts and Vicars

a fine day for a de-frocking
the whole town agrees, reporters
got their notepads,
it’s bound to happen soon.
line up the priests line up style
karma for Salem, karma for Sunday School
you in those fishnets, me with my
first button undone all of us
ready to make a big show of it
throwing darts at the scapegoat dartboard,
excommunication by raffle ticket. a parade
of naughty nuns breathing fire into
judges’ ears, a two for one deal
at the county hanging.
priests
and smokers
will be shot in the back in the new world
order, the only two things left that are
bad for you.
we cheer. laugh. dance. get woozy
and gropey, enough of us coming to
call it an orgy and you ask if I’ll take you
in your slit dress
right there on the altar and I’m thinking
that might still be a little bit far, drunk off
the wine from the ceremonial chalice
we go home, fuck
and piss blood