I Found the Bones of Christ at the Bottom of the Garden

One of my friends gave me, as a birthday present, a notebook in which she had written a different title on every page with the expectation that I would write a poem to accompany each title. This is one of those poems.

He danced to my heathen tune,
Eyes pleading for the pity
Not forthcoming.
No son of god shall persuade me
To lay down my guitar.
My single act of
Tedious rebellion.
For fun, for giggles
Now makes my deity tap.
To me
A mans skeletal form
Dug up from beneath a mulberry bush
Is no more immune to mockery
Than I.
When I lay
Face down in a puddle
Footprint on my back
As I walk home from school.
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