IN CASE YOU HAD PLANS FOR THOSE VIRGINS
We will die in the great dirt of St Mary’s
where ego is crap and worms are sovereign.
Our mortality will get us as far as a stone tablet,
a few decaying roses, a one-armed angel if we’re lucky.
Mighty god of the earth will use our bones, our flesh,
for nourishment, will chew up the coffin like a candy bar.
If religion’s right, our spirit will miss out on all this.
If religion’s wrong, then the priest sends his regrets.