Another priest
bows his head-
he isn't praying.
Never realized why
he liked to be around
so many men;
also discovered his erections
grew for them over the years.
The congregation loved him,
and he loved them right back.
Hot showers of heavy breath
filled with self-lust;
everyone’s smile was another
fist wrapped around his cock.
If only he had told
mom & dad
when he was younger.
Now he prays at night
with an erection
that hides itself
underneath a robe;
representing a faith
that would have his balls
on a platter
if they ever found out.
Falling into the night shift-
Summertime, the city-
the bus chockfull with lives
sitting away from labor
toward things of great worth:
the chair on the front porch,
or cold beer on a warm step
while cats scrap in the street.
Rows of trucks hide workers
sitting on crates
waiting for papers to sign,
as a truck is ass-ended
to the dock.
The rest is routine:
the rollers are set,
humping boxes into place,
dawn approaching with each movement.
Muscle-atrophied arms do their best
to accept each daily offering.
Past midnight, fifteen, twenty
years into it, they pull
at time boxed into hours,
stacked into a company truck
heading somewhere they haven’t,
and won’t.
Joseph says, "I reside in Burlington, Vermont. I run Scintillating Publications, a chapbook publishing press. J.J. Campbell's latest chap titled "Feel My Disease" will be due out shortly from my press. My own poems have appeared or will appear in Antipatico, Underground Voices, Zygote In My Coffee, Typewriter Voodoo, Remark, and many others. Interested poets can reach me at mustiis@aol.com for more details about upcoming chapbook releases and submission information."