i think this poem is quite apt now, although it was written sometime ago.

Saying grace.

He sat at the dinner table,
both hands apart
a separate utensil grasped
in each appendage
his dinner, now ready to start.

We must say grace,
he mumbled to himself
and each appendage nodded
in unison agreement:
we must commit this meal to God.

So he took in a deep breath
and though his body tensed,
he brought his hands together
in reverent worship
and closed his weary eyes.

Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be thy name.
And...with those sacred
words being said,
he made his first incision.

Please bless this time,
that I spend with you.
He said, as he dragged
the knife along
his stomach.

Bless the food as well,
that it may nourish me.
Prayed he,
making yet another
vertical incision.

I remember the people who prepared this food
please bless them in all they do.
His voice was barely audible,
as he pulled down his knife,
- the final slit.

In Jesus name,
...
As he tore apart the unholy crucifix,
and his intestines spilled
onto the dinner plate,

his lips were stuck
and just before he died
he found that, ...that he
just could not say
"Amen"