Auto Da Fe

When we were young and wicked
And lust was our liquor
The hours we would spend exploring the flesh.
I would map out your lips,
Build canals on your thighs
You would construct freeways with your tongue
My architect of wantonness.
You were Nero setting me afire so you could build again.
Confutatis maledictis
I thought I was Alexander,
I thought you were mine to conquer.
What delicious tribute you gave in our little bed!
Lust and desire and languourous days in the sun
We made love as if we were at war.
You made your conquests
But I was the master of ambush
I planted my flag and claimed you for myself!
L'etat c'est moi!

I did not expect the Spanish Inquisition
Confutatis maledictis
And in the grip of your iron-mouthed God
You have become my black-robed accuser
Oh little marionette!
Flammis acribus addictis
Where did the fire of your lust go?
Has your sex been replaced by His Word?
Do the beads of your rosary help you forget how I taste?
What fills your hunger now?
Voca me cum benedictis

You accuse me of heresy
You say I tempted you into sin
You say the heat of our desire was a taste of Hell
You hide your naked body behind your cross
Confutatis maledictis
I am guilty of passion, true.
And so, I shall once again burn.
Only this time without you.

Gere curam

Say a prayer for me when you get to Heaven.

Gere curam mei finis

--Me, 1998

Au"to-da-fé" (?), n.; pl. Autos-da-fé (). [Pg., act of the faith; auto act, fr. L. actus + da of the + faith, fr. L. fides.]


A judgment of the Inquisition in Spain and Portugal condemning or acquitting persons accused of religious offenses.


An execution of such sentence, by the civil power, esp. the burning of a heretic. It was usually held on Sunday, and was made a great public solemnity by impressive forms and ceremonies.


A session of the court of Inquisition.


© Webster 1913.

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