My Father's Thighs
In sympathetic memory of King Rehoboam.
When I became the king of Israel the people grumbled, as they often do. They claimed my father, Solomon, was harsh and overburdened them with heavy yokes. They wanted me to cut them slack. I sought my father’s (senile) elders for advice. And, wiping spittle from their beards, they said, you give them what they want, a lighter load. My buddies saw things otherwise. One night around a jar we found a clever comeback to the people’s cries. You’ve had enough? My member’s thicker than my father’s thighs! In retrospect, I might have used a softer turn of phrase. The Hebrews did not take to heavier taxes or longer days … And they stoned to death the taskmaster I sent. Shortly after this the kingdom tore in two. Shishak king of Egypt plundered Jerusalem, marauding the temple stores, my father’s shields of gold, which I replaced with shields of bronze—all I could afford.
This and less virile poems can by found in my book, Forbearance (Cascade, 2025).



I got a chuckle out of this from your book, and again, here...Oh, dear. Clever, and virile, both.
Excellent work! Reminds me of Gene Edwards' "Tale of Three Kings."