Lo, I reign— a dubious virgin
Yawning, gaping, where I bear
A Tree of Life, whose buds now burgeon
Under the target that I wear.
Charity strikes a shocking pose
Open, upon my regal chair:
A throne where what is hidden shows
Within my book of common prayer.
A Catholic joke both strange and lewd?
Perhaps. Yet still, I make you stare…
Such charity seems rather crude
Considering what I’ve got down there.
