Not a prick of blood or drop,
not an iron-maiden or thumb-screw-
in this inquisition the only labelled pricks
are the crazy Bonifaces burning books
evoking the responsorial dropped:
r.'SCREW YOU.' with blessed venom.
That'll do the trick.
Fragmented in the heart in the head
a zoo of virtues is loosed upon the world
feasting in love-feasts upon each other,
charity and truth juxtaposed. Justice
prickles to war-cries,
foaming at big mouths and belching,
humility having not been seen for years.
They not we will silence heretics.
-r
