St. Joseph

We do not venerate saints, 

and if we did I should not choose you.

It would be a mockery of

the man with the most chaste heart,

though by rights my patron,

to seek from you an intercession.

My heart is not chaste.

It pumps fire and passion through me.

It is flush like my face,

when she comes closer than she should.

It saturates tissue

with a longing to know her better

while it flows unrestricted through my fourth digit.

I should not beseech you to comfort my soul.

I should not plant the white lily in this soil.

We do not venerate saints, 

and if we did I should not choose you.