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At The Hall Called Praetorium
Although I was just an auxiliary,
the Roman army had good work from me.
Nor did they bulk at my perversity---
infliction of torment and injury
(mostly on girl-slaves, purchased just to be
the victims of my eccentricity,
the sacrificial lambs that cruelty
demands). That morning, Pilate sent for me:
he had another prisoner to condemn---
that carpenter come down from Galilee.
I hurried---breathless--through Jerusalem.
Into my eager fist, they put the scourge,
and watched while I unleashed my well-wrung urge
with practiced and artistic accuracy.
Excellent work. I like how you hinted at the "despised lifestyle" as a background and not the focas of the poem. It is a practice that worked well in this peice. Rae