He did not know that the Bible he raised is black

He rarely goes to church

Except for funerals

And some Easter Sundays

When the weather is good.

You can’t catch him holding the Bible

Except during election season

And when freelance pastors

Arrive to wash away his sins.

Then the Pharisees and the Sadducees

Stormed his sterile White House

Itching to paint it black.

Reminder of a color he loves to wring

With his tiny hands

In his stunt bathrobe

He ran into his reason-proof bunker

Hiding under the wrath-filled bed

Where Obama’s frog still squats

And behold!

He perceived their odor

Obnoxious and pernicious

Streaming into his bunker

All the way from the great wall

Then he ordered his soldiers

Padded with patriotism

Armed with the Constitution