Sonnet #393

 If He returned back then just after

He ascended, they’d have crucified Him twice

Or thrown Him to the lions while the emperor

Pretended to watch. A little later they’d slice

His belly open slowly and wind His parts

Before they chopped His head and arms

And four horses to the ends of the earth

Or maybe burn the witch, crush Him 

With rocks until He relented His own truth

Inquisitors would rip His teeth out,

Break His legs and back upon the rack

Or chain Him to the keel and cast Him out

Or hang Him, firing squads, lethal injections, 

It’s not time, yet. We’re not ready for inspection.