Even that man who lives on that far hill,
whose wife, a Jezebel, paints her face,

tempts all the boys at the grocery store
until they have had their fill of her body

that reeks from oils and perfumes--
sin that has risen from scorched bones

to clot the nostrils of God,
for their fornications and adulteries have not

gone unnoticed. Not one
will be spared, not even the whimpering

dog that sits by the window, gazing out
into the yard. For haven’t we suffered

enough for a remnant who’ve always
disobeyed the law, when only the whip

could teach us the Word? Like Samson
I will wipe out iniquity, decorate the trees

with their bodies to herald
the greater wrath that will surely come.