Teacher of Sin

14) Were it not for the danger I am in
I surely ought to admire your nerve.
Such forms as are women do not shape sin
With so much cunning device; gentle curves
That do make up your frame, ice to reshape
In the depths of your heart, waxed from frost.
So unrepresentative of your sex,
Towing me about so to perplex
Me of your intentions, but I know well;
Free from lords, men of disrepute and lust
Most foul, women, governed by raging hell
Committed upon their beauteous bust,
Rebel. Yet your eyes bear no evil thought,
Though by my actions has evil been taught.

                                                                Teacher of Sin, (c) Luke Bennette, March 2012