Mormon Morning

As stale, burnt coffee infuses the air
I stir with my consumed keg with particular care
The sun’s angry wife, poking me in the eye
Peeling them open, I see Mormons walk by.

In a suit and tie on, one begins to stretch
Facts and Reality; hungover, I wretch
How can he hold Joseph’s book in his pit
While praising the Lord with his convulsing fit?

Then, the merry man meets with members of his flock
Must be a potluck; one carries a crock.
So tightly wound, she must inch down her skirt
To blindly smile at the golden plates from dirt.

Fifty or so enter as I slightly wake
They won’t leave until the cataclysmic quake
Perhaps they’ll pray for my drunken soul;
I slept in my doorway after a long bar stroll.

Dizzy and sick, I finally rise
Was I listening to Smith’s lies?
I stagger for wine to start my day anew
I’m a Catholic, after all, and that’s what Jesus would do.

Donut Sonnet

Your donut triggers a love sonnet in form
A rumbling desire shakes in my core
A bubbly laugh fixes a fair new form
My bedrock bumbles as never before
Your slightly smile brightens my every day
No winter can exist without your glow
All that matters are the words you say
Is it you or the donut? I may never know.
The stars in your eyes melt mountains and rocks
I garble the rules we use to create
Earthquakes of emotion shake my socks
Is this how it feels to know of your fate?
Your beautiful sun makes men fall as fools
Eschewing the donut, breaking the rules.