Laura comes forth from the porch of the temple
After High Mass. As about the Portinari
The manifest glory of supernatural Wisdom
So on her rested clarity
Of Provencal sunlight, a trecento springtime
Petrarch endured exquisite, protracted torments of passion,
Distilled to the rhetoric of fourteen lines-
Laura de Sade, the ancestress.

* * * * *

The Marquis is locked up in the Bastille
For his own good, along with a handful
Of other self-destructive incompetents;
Condemned in absentia for attempted murder-
An indiscreet afternoon orgy;
Two whores and his own brutal valet,
Also an injudicious experiment
Involving cantharides. In rage and frustration
...