We saw the preacher,  
we heard him too,  
when—with a hanky—  
his puffy palm  
dabbed our sweat  
off his temple.

He exclaimed:  
“Woe unto those  
who don’t give  
to the Lord,  
for the kingdom of God  
is not theirs!”

The sermon—  
like snorted crack—  
zombified us,  
the aspiring saints,  
into rummaging  
our exhausted mines,  
as we reached  
for remnant alms  
with palms  
drier than his.