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Saint Lawrence



 

St. Lawrence


Oh, no, they didn’t like him
so they kindled up a fire

such was their ire
such was their mire

they laid him out upon a grate
such was their hate.

thirsting to sate their greed with pain
wanting to eat his ego slain

glowering to hear him plead,
complain,
such was their need

in vain
in vain

For he made not a sound while he slowly cooked

they looked
they looked

Until, in a while,
he turned his head
and, smiling, said,

“Turn me over. This side is already cooked.”

And so it was,

on that fateful day,
not Lawrence
who suffered most

the spectators’ minds
and hearts
did roast
did roast

on that day of flame
on that day of shame.

 



Copyright © 2012 Mary Ann Sullivan