Since Vatican II, the number of Catholic priests has declined
by more than half.
He’d always wanted to remain a priest.
Contingencies of life restrained that dream,
Especially his strong desire for joys
The hierarchy felt should be constrained
Toward hallelujahs chanted underneath the gaze
Of God. It wasn’t odd that he’d not spent his days
Refuting these old men. Instead he’d trained
To practice first the law, and then the noise
One makes to run for office. “Rising cream
Is how I saw myself, not collared beast
“Required to postulate a theory least
Appropriate for living.” He did seem
Sincere and passionate, an equipoise
Developed just before he first campaigned
(Ignored by voters with experience nowadays).
His poor initial polls suggested one who prays
For what he cannot win, a posture strained
Of facts. Of course it’s tears that one deploys
As ordinance for the victory. The scheme
Succeeded later. God, not praised, was pleased
Perhaps, that would-be servants loved the smell
Of sulphur more than heaven’s perfumed dell.
When one escapes the single clap of Zen
One may begin to fear Ms. Magdalene.