Two Open Letters to the Pope, Or Variations on a Theme

I.
An Open Letter to the Pope (No, Not That One)

See, my parents' next-door neighbors just had a baby,
whom they named John Paul. So my parents,
whose sense of humor has always been a bit dry,
have been calling him the Pope.
During one of my recents visit home,
the neighbors stopped by my parents' house,
And I got to hold the little Pope while they chatted about bathroom remodels.

Dear TinyPope,

Holding you makes me feel so many things at once.
Sleeping, your eyes are blanched cowry shells.
I press my nose to your head and breathe in.
Damnit, does somebody put heroin in baby shampoo?
I don't understand. WHY do babies' heads smell so good? Is it creepy if I just keep smelling your head?
My parents joke about how delectably fat your cheeks are.
They say you are a sack of potatoes
And while it is true that you are adorably lumpy, I have never felt I would throw myself in front of a bus for a sack of potatoes. Not even mashed potatoes, which I feel are the highest achievement a potato can hope for.
But for you I would. I have just met you and you are not even mine,
but I want the world to be good to you. I want the world to be good for you.
MiniPope, you make me believe the world can be good, even as I remember how empty my womb is. Holding you, my body aches to make life. Instead I make poems in the shape of babies, and pray that they are enough.
One day, LittlePope, I believed someone who told me I was not enough, and I have been working every day since then to un-believe it.
Hear me now, BabyPope. You are enough, and the world is good.


II.
An Open Letter to the Pope (Yes, That One)

Dear Actual Pope,

OK, I need you to not screw things up for this kid.
You have made me hopeful. I mean, I haven't felt Catholic in a long time, but you've been making some statements lately that make me suspect you might be different from your predecessors. And here's the thing:
The Catholic Church left me long before I left the church. I was Cain, with an unacceptable offering of a queer heart and riot grrrl tendencies. I walked away, broken-hearted, from a God that only wanted me if I promised never to fall in love.
But that doesn't have to be the world that this kid grows up in.
This papacy thing you have going, you have a chance to make it right.
I held the PintsizePope in my arms, and I want you to help make the world for him. Together, you and me,  we are enough, and we can make the world good.