Stations of the Cross

Love, make of me the most erotic work of art.
Crush my knees
as I fall
to the ground
before you lift me up
and nail me
to your merciless cross.

Weak and limp,
I will be your blood-trickling Christ
with purple loincloth
and wine-stained lips
blistered with the virus
of your miserable ecstasy
as I wail my last words:
“My God, my God,
why have you forsaken me!”

Originally published in Esopian, April 2006.

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