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Jul 2020
Forsaken Christ swallows wholly his pride,
Or sour wine less pure than water or pain-
Presently pierced, and now to poke again
To drain the fountain living through his side.
And women weeping hymns to him abide
In agonizing ghosts that sound the strain-
“Never ever after our Lord is slain
Shall blood from water nourish ****** bride”.
Full dead they take to tomb the suffered gent
And women weeping there reflect how sweet
The water went when he heard mother’s cries.
And women weeping left the brood to treat
The body, decked with spices and ointment
To prepare rot- and say to him “arise”.
Written by
John Dunn  44/M/Owosso, Mi.
(44/M/Owosso, Mi.)   
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