Appearances
I go to choral evensong and sit
In regal beauty in the queen’s own free
Saint George’s Chapel. I have used my spit
To cut the pain a corn has caused to me
When I put on my snakeskin shoes, the blue
……….
Ones, Hugo Boss. I’m wearing my fur coat
Of striking pony skin in stylish tans
And creams. (Forget the mink in brown; I gloat
Despite that colored collar.) No one in
The high arched choir has knowledge of the corn
Or slick saliva. They might think it sin
To wear the equine garment, bad as porn.
..I don’t belong in such a sacred sphere.
….Saints George and mildest Francis don’t appear.