Evil writhes in glistening coils in the
scaled and furred hoofed and clawed
glistens in luxury and concupiscence
the moistly slip-sliding of nakedness.
Women tempting with apples breasts moon-
buttocked laugh at the pure eyes averted.
The paintbrush probes scalpel-like beneath
the skin delighting in entrails devoured
and the charred flavour of flaming hair
a dab of the branding iron the flaying knife
all the devious instruments for prising out pain
you paint with delectation. Only a priest-painter
clothed in the hair shirt of purity and self-
inflicted pain an artist with an aura of sanctity
could weigh in the balance
and find so many wanting.
Pity the censorious for theirs is the arid desert
of ash the blood-soaked sand of Golgotha.