words are slippery things,
meanings & inference & subtlety
all lost in a blink - twisted, turned,
maimed, & unrecognizable
in the wrong hands.

each year, i read the words
of a peacemaker & lover of justice
perverted & prostituted
for the sake of appearances -

a thin dusting of righteous soil
to cover the bones of their sins,
all done with a grin, uncaring
about the duplicity of it all.

i too, have a dream -
that has-been haters would
lose their tongues each January,
go mute & simply grind their jaws
with confused, wild eyes.

i know it isn’t necessarily what
he would’ve wanted or the christian
thing to do, but dammit,
it’d sure as hell feel good, wouldn’t it?