The minute you told me about
Your Bishop and the creepy questions
From worthiness interviews,
I knew we were
My Sister
"Oh, you have?"
Bishop McClain's eyes perked
Just a little, she swears,
A flash of excitement betrayed his
Next look of concern
"Can you tell me about the last time?
How long ago was it?
Where you alone?
Were the individuals
Completely naked in the pictures?"
She reminds me now
That she is barely twelve years old
Having celebrated just last week...
Hence the private meeting,
An annual check-up
You told me how he
Started to breathe heavier
And deeper with each new
Damning detail and necessary
Follow-up questions
A dentist five days a week and
An un-paid Judge of Isreal on Sundays,
Until an equally creepy
Accountant is called to serve
Over the Apple Valley Ward
I loved how you sipped
Your ***** every time McClain's
Name disgraced your mouth
Leaving you in need to wash
His foul taste from your tongue
And when the story flashed forward
To your honeymoon ten years later
I had an educated suspicion
Of where this story might be
Headed
The man you loved unbuttoned your
Pants and his breathe was so
Heavy you froze but unsure why,
Some zombie-you taking over
To get the job done
The real you, you tell me,
Was floating ten feet above the bed
Looking but not looking
Like a ghost trying to solve its
Own ******
Eventually you did,
Your love's breathe was too familiar,
But it wasn't without years of therapy
Threats of divorce and
Occasional talks of suicide
You tell me you'll never know
How much of your struggles now
Have their roots in a church
You gave your everything to
And I knew just what you meant
“The doctrine of this Church is that ****** sin — the illicit ****** relations of men and women — stands, in its enormity, next to ******. The Lord has drawn no essential distinctions between fornication, adultery, and harlotry or prostitution. Each has fallen under His solemn and awful condemnation.” (First Presidency Message of October 1942)
