Moonlit Christ looks quizzically

Down on a thousand eager artists

Tying His arms and legs

To easels loaded

With the dirty teeth of

Fame and desire.

The goat thuds into

His chest and the vulture

Unscrews His bones.

Cold lonely on an empty hillside

He is a figure just out of sight

As a woman hurries home

With her shopping

Worrying about the change,

When the lights go out

And she curses, looking for her keys.