Dear Mariette

A Poem by Renata

The pew space beside me
sits empty as an atheists faith
glistening pine reflective
of shrinking buttocks
or a shrinking flock,

a sermon burns
through my ears
like the flames of Hell
except Hell doesn’t smell
of lavender incense, I presume,

as expected
there is no sign of men;
fishing trumps faith
any day of the week for them
especially on a Sunday,

and Mariette
is nowhere to be found
(also, as expected)
a disobedient Christian
if ever there was one,

for she loves to handle
a rod as well
but not the kind
made of graphite
but one certainly
with no strings attached,

she was a choir girl once
who could reel off Bible verse
like politicians reel off lies
and would scare off boys
faster than a Nissan full of nuns
with a bee under the bonnet,

she loved God
and she loved Jesus
and his twelve groupie dudes
as she would call them
in her moments
of shattered innocence,

but much like belief
some people tend to sway
on the pendulum of morals;
to lose their way
along the path of righteousness
to find themselves
in thickets with thorns
in all the wrong places,

she took her faith
way too seriously
until it drained from the veins
of all she was,

and when Jesus
spoke to Peter
about becoming Fishers of Men,
I think Mariette took that
way too literally as well,

but there is always
next Sunday
salvation may be found
in the arms of good men,

so, we’ll see then.