—*contains actual cuss words

 

So, imagine my delight

when she decided 

to go back to church.

 

Reverend Musman,

the true disciple

of the Apostle Paul,

was a tough judge.

 

She had to find ways

around her favorite

litanies like Daddy’s

own improvisation

when he hit his thumb 

with a hammer:

 

God-damn-mother-fuckin-

son-of-a-bitchin’-bastard.

 

She couldn’t even tell 

guffawing daughters

to go to hell given 

her new bout 

with Methodism.

 

When we squealed at the sight 

of Easter eggs crowned 

with paper bunny ears, 

all she could muster was

 

If you don’t like my bunny,

you can go to blazes.

 

Drummed so hard by laughter,

I still feel my ribs pound.