In the Museum of Good Deeds

Saint Sebastian recycles his arrows, Saint
Francis divies his cloak, half to the beggar,
half to the bird, boys flit naked among
the nudes, David wears nothing but hat and shoes.

So much charity among the saints: Theresa
split and spent again, her Trojan crab piping
double defeat, give unto Caesar what was
Carthage while Christ divides the kids from the sheep.

Whether we want salvation or dust,
Goliath’s feather ticks high up David’s thigh,
and what we save is what we lust
though what is proper may not be meet.

The statues are painted, but washing makes din.
We are saving good deeds to buy a great sin.