“Habemus papam” or so we were told,
An elderly man, past his prime, yet still as sharp as a knife,
Trying hard, the best way he could, even if at times clumsily,
So clumsily he can’t reach his toes to cut his toenails,
So clumsily as he can’t reach for his back to wash it,
So clumsily in his fear of abandonment,
So clumsily with his imaginary prostate problem,
Pope “Piss the greatest” he ought to be named,
The patron saint of those suffering from urinary incontinence,
The one to be called upon when one cannot hold the bladder,
Hold it long enough to reach for the public restrooms.

“Habemus papam”, or so we were told,
Never elected him, never chosen him,
Would have returned him to the store given the chance,
But stuck with him we are, and too late to change,
But change he does, even if at times he is clumsy,
So clumsy with his fear of abandonment,
But hug him is all to be done, even if he never hugs back,
Perhaps because he loves too much, and showing the love,
Is a risk of being abandoned,

A clumsy man he is, this man - Pope “Piss the greatest”.