Condemnation placard
   Stapled to the church door
     With the commanding tone
   Of Luther’s notice.
 
 The Condemned has stately bones 
   But its skin and viscera 
     Are in shambles.
 
 Sun pierces stained glass,
   Bathing dirty surfaces
    With bright color, 
   But the dust and rat shit
     Remain to create a
   Miasma within.

 One day a wrecking ball
   Will make good on the
     Condemnation.