So my devout fits come and go away
Like a fantastic ague; save that here
Those are my best days, when I shake with feare.
Holy Sonnet XIX, John Donne
Guilt is one thing, but grim acquiescence
To Yawah’s tyranny’s another thing
Altogether! Listen, who put the bling
In sex if not God? So why is license
Now required? God, of his bright puissance.
Created orgasmic bliss, made us sing
The flaming pleasure of sexual flings.
Why? To make us tremble seeking penance?
What strange game have we here? Lure us to touch
The glowing coal that He might scorch our hand?
Establish licentiousness to trap such
Of us that succumb, whereupon, unmanned,
We’re threatened with fire. How very queer
To stab our trembling joy with shaking fear!
(11/1/07)