Theology in the Head - poem

Lawrence Hall
mhall46184@aol.com
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

Theology in the Head

They aren’t the Jordan, the waters of the head
Unless maybe they are
Flowing not across the forehead
But across the tiles

Pursued less by a hound of Heaven
Than by a soul-scrubbing brush
At 0200 when we’re made to field-day the head
Not the forehead but the head

Where 60 recruits have washed and shaved
Brushed their healthy young teeth
Showered and (alliterate the “sh” in “showered”)
In haste, liturgically, upon command

And we in our skivvies speak of God
The meaning of life
The Lenten humility in scrubbing toilet bowls
And whether chief petty officers can be saved