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).