Postulant gleanings, smugly smother;

themselves, recused of all but shame,

and, grinning, welcoming all others

to lust and pander to the same.

*****

Their shriveled hands with guilty prints

have satisfied their share of grasping

little ones so frightened, whence

they licks their lips, while one’s left gasping.

*****

Forced to lie and to pretend

that all is well in home and pew,

but soap can ne’er these stains amend

nor memories of hope renew.

*****

Cry out to he whose son was pricked

by lords and teachers of the cloth,

his first-fruits life no parlor trick

his vassals, now are we, betrothed.

*****

When turns the tide and justice breathes

its wind of life and sanctity,

these little ones so bruised, relieved

shall live, their due reward, to see.