Weeks passed as Jimmy Crump sat in the phone void, "The Dark"
Like a snapped off twig,
the tree and roots long blow away by the storm.
A light revolves and shines down,
and with a strange ache new roots reach out.
Sleeping with the old bones of Saints,
starting suddenly to insult the priest with liturgial jokes...
"Woman, I don't know what you mean!"
I made the Masonic Royal Arch sign of the stone rejected by the builders,
to the empty sanctuary,
the veils torn and missing.
Denied Christ with Peter,
snickered out my sorrow,
and continued the rounds till Midnight,
when the voices outside shouted
"go Home"...and the doors were made fast.
I carried the cross as the sheep sang, on one day
I bent my knee and sang with the sheep, on that Bloody Friday.
Annointed as a Mother of the Desert Fathers,
abandoned by all lovers,
only sought out for screaming...
Thus purified I drank the blood.
A corpse cleaned of feet
and oiled for wrapping.
Staggered from the tomb with the Maccabes,
raising with Antiocus, who anointed me for a gaff
and laughed as he slipped and fell in the baths.