The Polytheistic Blues

 The Polytheistic Blues

(“Jesus found a young donkey and sat on it.” John 12:14a)

I’ve got too many gods to choose from
and it used to give me the polytheistic blues.
From now on I will make up my own:
a conqueror, a colonizer, a warrior, an executioner,
a man. Amen.

And if he (or they, I do not mind pluralities) met my
strict requirements and stuck to my
national boundaries, and only spoke my native tongue,
I might be persuaded to offer obeisance.

Perhaps you can help me fashion a few new
objets d’art we can put next to our american flags
to remind us we have manufactured them ourselves.
Look at all we’ve done: catapults, gatling guns,
atom bombs and remote-controlled drones. Look
at our power to unearth the planet we stand upon.

We can gild our icons with gold if only everyone tithes
what they cannot afford.
Feed the poor?
Sure, we have a potluck once a month. We can
bottle our time, sell car washes and cookies
to support the new chandelier that highlights our deities.

Don’t give me a god in a hippie van,
mine has an army of tanks.