The streamers were so colourful
Balloons and posters too
A buffet tea of fine repast
Prepared for twenty-two
To see again each childhood friend
This well planned school reunion
To reminisce on that and this
And their mischievious unholy communions
The girls from Notre Dame it seemed
The nuns had taught them well
Unless you peeked beneath the pews
For what tales they could tell
Good Catholic ladies now were they?
With angel wings to soar on?
The question begs from between their legs,
Is “Good Catholic” an oxymoron?
For as the party time arrived
Not one came to the door
And Bernadette stood by the mirror
Staring at she, whom some called whore.
They would have come if they had known
They had long since forgiven her game
But not a one knew who the invite was from
As she used her twelfth husband’s surname.
Reece Kaye
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-s-my-chapatti-and-i-ll-cry-if-i-want-to/
