circus of hate

not enough love in that manger,
in that deranged,
lost,
head of heads.

the beds folded neatly had corners
unruffled
the pillows always fluffed in the morning
but not too fluffy or pouffy,
we wouldn’t want that.

the dogs, obedient,
yes,
but not like the women,
who sit and beg for the scraps
of civil society
bestowed upon them.

no, not the dominant view,
but one that hasn’t been
exonerated from christianity
like it should have been.
yes, that’s a normative statement,
if there ever was one.

I guess I had it all wrong, then,
when I thought
we were beyond hating each other,
and when I thought
we would be better than
bringing a circus of hate into town
every time someone dies.