***
This continuous crime looks
as old as one thousand years
subservient with his fallen lips
with his bent knees, his bowed-down
head the criminal sinks creeps in
among embryos and zygotes
he thrusts himself into the genes
into their deep sea, into their
vast desert, into the test tube
of the geneticist of which the hand
of the Naturalness will take him out
so she can sprinkle all the grains
with blood, tossing and turning
in pleasures, with the heart
everlastingly charred and no one
is like the bread that the saint will break.
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