The Investigative Judgment

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

Imagine that your soul was opened, turned,

Turned inside out by Jesus Christ or Freud–

Or Satan.  Were the brands within it burned

Against your will and would you be destroyed

Inside your heart if everyone could see

Those scars especially if you had sparked

Them not the members of that trinity?

If you inside yourself, and hidden, marked

The chambers of your chest, then you would want

The screening of these underground cave runes

To be controlled and not let others flaunt

Them, changing your insides to crude cartoons.

    If they were not full moons but something sly,

      You might want something like a godly alibi.