. Biden Has an Accident at the Vatican Ubi Petrus, ibi Ecclesia: Where Peter is, there is the Church. Ubi Bergoglius, ibi merda: Where Bergoglio is, there is excrement. I came to see the Pontiff. He is a head of state. The Vatican is tiny but it has a lot of weight. I have to make these visits. They’re just part of the job, No matter if the ruler is a tyrant or a slob. I came into the chamber, where audiences stand, And hoped that everything would go exactly as was planned. I wondered for a moment—Benedict, or Paul? My aide then whispered Francis—but you don’t say that at all! His title’s Holy Father. That’s all you need to know. Just smile and make some chitchat for an hour, then we’ll go. “That’s fine with me,” I answered. I walked up to the Pope. (The rumors at the White House are he’s something of a dope.) He raised his hand in blessing. But then I felt an urge. My bowels were on fire and there was a sudden surge That ran right through my innards, like sprinters in a race, And in a flash I shat my pants in noisome, foul disgrace! My aide made some excuses. The Pope looked out of sorts. They took me to a restroom where I changed my jockey shorts. . . Joseph S. Salemi has published five books of poetry, and his poems, translations and scholarly articles have appeared in over one hundred publications world-wide. He is the editor of the literary magazine Trinacria and writes for Expansive Poetry On-line. He teaches in the Department of Humanities at New York University and in the Department of Classical Languages at Hunter College.