Benediction

by

Hay Machine

(All sing)

Tan tomb err go-oh
Sa cra meh hen tomb

Lord hear us

Hold up the sacred golden thing we dare not see
and measured-ring the altar's jingling bells
shake the burning incense urn
until the coughing congregation smells
smothered genuflecting deep in clouds of holiness

The naves and marbled atrium
under highest copper dome
behind the wooden pulpit stairs
and sideways-facing wooden throne
the alter rails and red-oil light the velvet cushioned chairs
where bishops in their mitres sit
without their congregation's cares

Confession boxes
curtain-trimmed and framed in chiselled ash
and dry as dry can be within
compared with varnished outer sash
when sinners trapped within this holy web
whisper juicy secrets from their loins
they moisturise the cleric's hairy ear
web-entrapped the strategy the lowly spider spins
eaten
first impaled upon their (God-offending)
devil's mortal sins

In the name of the Father and of the Son
and of the Holy Ghost
sing a song of sixpence
a pocket full of rye
Mrs Hendron's headscarf
and John McGee's glass eye

Lord hear us
Lord graciously hear us

NEXT?
Why don't you look at O Prisioneiro
by: Lizz Schikora
from: Kristiansand, Norway

To visit all of Hay Machine's poems, click HERE

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