Martin Luther, 1515
Martin Luther, sent to Rome
On churchly errands far from home
Walks the streets and sees the whores
Lurking in the shadowed doors
Sees priests embrace those painted faces
Is offered one on a trial basis.
“What can it hurt?” a Cardinal said,
“God made women as God made bread.”
Martin fled to the Sistine Chapel
And almost bit a second apple
High above his tonsured head
An artist lay, as on a bed
As he worked the forms grew
Martin watched and Martin knew
This was power, this was news
This was where he had to choose
If he stayed he must submerge
All he knew to this new urge
A shaken man he stumbled forth
And set his face toward a final North
The lesson here the church can learn
Is art can thrive, but flesh can burn
Don’t send you monks to your great cities
To gaze upon a woman’s titties
Keep them safe by the fires at home
Don’t drive a stake in the heart of Rome.