The black boys, who refused to fuck the king

were executed. “Martyred”, we would say.

With hymns they praised Christ on their royal

way

to death. Their purity we meekly sing.

In the evil deed, where was the Devil?

The act of homosexuality?

The cruel debauchery of royalty?

Both; deemed equal at the lowest level.

The Faithful, who the martyrs, praise and honour

can’t proclaim a homosexual bliss;

(the mind drowned by the terribly amiss

cannot their innocence betray or squander.)

Martyrdom divides the Church’s north from south

minds and hearts abhor what’s spoken by the mouth.

 

The story goes: African kings were known to order girls into their beds. Objections were not strenuous until a king was crowned who required little boys. The boys refused and were executed. On their way to death they sang hymns in praise to Jesus Christ. They are remembered in this sonnet..