Neophyte Poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Neophyte



Neophyte
What can I say the pot plants in the yard are fed tiny rain drops
saintly tears of a girl rejected by the abbess to join the order
because she detect a wild sensual abandonment behind eyes that,
at first glance, are mirrors of chastity.
The abbess knows the young girl is not seeking god rather she seeks
shelter from the raving craving of her body, the relentless dreams
so alive she feels the weight of her fantasy lover´s alabaster body,
a young priest at the local church.

Sacrifices, in god´s name is always demanded by religious orders,
and mother superior has a quota to fill, but she is not looking for
troubles She needs compliant novices, Indian girls from the slum
who will forever thank god for escaping Calcutta´s poverty. They
will be slaves of Jesus and married to him, clean his underwear
endure ignominy for three square meals and a bunk bed to sleep in.

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