I Used to Want to Be a Monk

I used to want to be a monk,
to live for God alone, to sing, to pray.
But I have not become a monk,
and I used to wonder why.
I finally figured it out.  I don't want to live with a bunch of guys.
I like women.
I want to live with women.
I want to be a nun.

I want to be a nun.
I want to be a nun from head to toe in a long black habit,
stirring the sky, licking the earth,
letting the wind know that I am here,
and when I walk I want seagulls to circle
thinking that I am a wave.

I want to be a nun.
I want to be a cool nun who wears sunglasses,
and plays softball with the children at the school, and runs the bases in
white Adidas,
my beads flying ahead as I dive for third,
whipping up an apparition of the Blessed Virgin.

I want to be a nun.
I want to be an exemplary nun, a nun's nun, a nun
tormented by tiny whistling monkeys as I forgive
my persecutors who are roasting me on a spit,
and I want to take my turn in the convent kitchen,
cooking things like lasagna.
I want to be a nun who has it all.
I want to be a nun who has a penis, and a wife,
and a son who one days says to me, Dad,
l used to want to be a monk.



Douglas J. Wilkinson