POETRY

The Inquisition

Summoned to her cavern by
Sister Florentine and her Shade

I, trembling, stand before her
a Prince of the seventh grade

Her face is stuffed in fabric white
her plump cheeks pearly pink
lips pursed narrow eyes peek
through twin octagonal panes
connected by a twisted wire
short-circuiting her brains

Her creamy bib is starched and stiff
black habit draped in folds
she seems to me enraptured
with the petty power she holds

“Do you realize, mister,
your pants are very tight?
I see the outline of your manhood
even in this darkened light.”

My heart is slamming in my chest
I’m hot-faced crimson red
inner shame enslaves me
as every word is said

Jesus hangs up on his cross
Pius nods his head
Mother Cabrini shades her eyes
JFK is dead

I bow my head, I shuffle
choke off a bitter tear
raise my gaze to face her
I reply, “Yes, Sister.”

m.landers 04/06