A Poem I’d Like to Have Writtenbut Haven’t Been Drunk Enough To

Obscenity Prayer
By Mary Karr

Our falter, whose art is Heavy,
Halloween be thy name.
Your kingdom’s numb
your children dumb on earth
moldy bread unleavened.
Give us this day our
wayward dead.
And give us our
asses as we forgive those
who ass against us.
And speed us not
into wimp nation
nor bequiver us
with needles, for thine
is the flimflam and the sour,
and the same fucking
story in leather
for never and ever.
Ah: gin.

* * * * *

I don’t share enough poetry by other writers here, which I can blame equally on reluctance to use others’ work without permission (even though most poets are happy to see their pieces reaching a wider readership) and the feeling that by doing so I’m cheating. It’s “Unbound Notes from an Innocent Man,” after all, not “Stuff Byron Case Likes and Wants to Show You.” But what the hell. The fact is, I’m feeling very put-upon of late and wouldn’t mind a gin and tonic or two, even though it’s hardly the right time of year for one (or two). Some sherry would do the job equally well. Or cognac. Or just an Irish coffee, heavy on the Irish.