Straw Jesus

painting by Candido Portinari


Straw Jesus

“We must all make due with the rags of love we

find on the scarecrow of humanity.”

--Angela Carter.

Christ-like, here I am,

nailed to a wooden cross

made from broken barn boards.

I’ve got vine maple stick legs

shoved into worn out boots;

laces untied and tongues flapping

in the fertilized fecund breeze.

My faded and holy bibbed overalls

are held up by one good denim strap

and a large rusty safety pin.

The strap sports a brass clip, stamped

“can’t bust ‘em”. My red plaid shirt

is torn at the shoulder, and is missing

a pocket. My empty head is a taped-up

soccer ball, and my face is painted

onto a flour sack pulled tight.

My hat, like my torso, is comprised 

of sad sinuous straw.

I’m supposed to be the fierce guardian

of a vast corn field, but around here all

the crows are smarter than I am. 

They flock to me, perching on my 

outstretched arms and battered hat.

If I only had a brain, I might be able

to figure out how to properly scare

my friendly murder of crows.

One bright day while was just hanging

around contemplating my predicament,

a young girl in a blue dress, accompanied

by a tin man woodsman, strolled by. She

told me her named was Dorothy, and that

she was on a quest--and she asked me if

I wanted to join her. Since I was such a

failure in the field, I jumped at the chance

for some adventure; little did I know

what I was in for.

Flying monkeys came

by night, sent by a witch for

nefarious deeds.

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over at dVerse Poets Pub