A poem by a Hermit Trappist Monk
Divine is his, alike is her design,
both front and back in ev'ry artful line.
Their irised eyes and rosette nibs align,
and centered nose and subtle navel fine.
two horizontal lips to kiss and dine,
two hushed in down to sup a spouse's wine.
Those shoulders, thighs robust divide the spine.
Ten fingered hands that serve; in love, entwine,
ten toes a foot, to dance and sports incline.
What more could you expect of God's own shrine?
Could be, resurrection's anodyne!
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