Crucifixion Lite

A nun's clasped hands at feet of clay

exalt a love divine

with piety no more abject

than what I make to mine.

Idle her idolatry, less tried

in profane view;

her Christ so much less tenderly

unmerciful than you!

For in all truth, religiously

I worship you, my muse:

whom I adore, adorned with thorns,

the source of all abuse:

So rising, after 3 days,

and pushing back the stone,

you overturn what was my faith

and nail me to the bone!