A poem about Mortal Sin.
Fiery lusts evoked
By Sister Augustine
A true game provoked
In whirls of ecstasy
On the hills of Aventine
Cruel words spoke to me
Sent my heart to serpentine
Upon dark choirs of tyranny
Her chords vastly strung
Came closer to falter
From where her skirts hung
Across the cold stone alter
Her virtue, wickedness spun
In God’s most sacred hall
As I pounded her moral drum,
Grinding shadows on the wall
A thousand prayers rent
Oh, the things she said!
When in divinity’s peak she wept
“Take these blasphemies to bed!”
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