A Trinity

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

This Savior has three penis heads above

The cloth wrapped round his crotch and hidden hips.

We wonder what exactly was the love

He died for.  Was it so that widows’ lips

Could pray for penis glanses like those three

(And maybe more).  Of course it’s troubling that

We can’t imagine where their shafts and pee

Tubes can fit into such a scene.  Splat

Goes faith in artists.  Faith in golden glans

Is hard to come by in this age of porn.

Of course there might be many, many fans

Of such phenomena—and maybe scorn.

  Of course it’s wrong to show a savior’s bag

    With balls.  And if you do, of course he’ll sag.