I wish Miss Hooker could marry Jesus
and that they’d adopt me so I’d be
the son of the Son of God, she’s my Sun
-day School teacher is Miss Hooker but she’s
25 and Jesus is so old He’s
immortal, maybe even God’s own age
if in fact He’s God to boot, some folks be
-lieve that though I’m not always sure what we
hold to in our church, at least what I hold,
I only think about religion one
day out of every seven and if
I thought about it every day of
the week I guess I’d be dead, my body
anyway, my soul would be in Heaven
or, more likely, Hell, I sin a good deal
for just ten years old. Then there’s the matter<\/p>\n\n\n\n
of my parents, they’d have to give me up
\nfor adoption, though I suspect Jesus
\ncould force ’em to, which is kosher with me,
\nmy folks don’t even come to church, they sleep
\nlate and sometimes when I return for lunch
\nthey’re still in bed and they’re not too pretty
\nwhen they finally come forth, Lazarus
\n-like you might say, smelling musty and slur
\n-ring their speech and frowning and sounding un
\n-grateful they they’re not really dead. Maybe
\nMiss Hooker and Jesus could have other<\/p>\n\n\n\n
children, not adopted like me but from
\ntheir own bodies so I could have brothers
\nand sisters even though they’re not really
\nrelated to me but then again may
\n-be they are, Love thy neighbor as thyself
\nand all that Bible-jazz, maybe even
\nMiss Hooker’s related to me, not my
\nmother or sister or aunt or cousin but
\nif there truly is a human family
\nthe maybe we’re a lot closer than I
\nrealized, and I’d like to marry her
\nmyself although I wouldn’t cut Jesus
\nout for anything but I guess in Sun
\n-day School I learned today, at least I figured,
\nall by my lonesome that if everyone’s kin
\nthen it’s okay to marry someone of
\nyour own flesh. Or something like that. Maybe
\nmy confusion is the Crucifixion’s
\npurpose, not that I’m not still bewildered
\nbut if I have to die, which I do, then
\nI won’t have to die for being baffled.
\nSo I made lunch for me and Mother and
\nFather but for them it’s what they call brunch.
\nAnd it satisfied–they cleaned their headless
\nplates. When they went back to bed, I joined them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Gale Acuff has had hundreds of poems published in several countries and is the author of three books of poetry. He has taught university English in the US, China, and Palestine. <\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"