Outmanned by starboard mermaids, I perspire
On thick log book where squibs alternate
With SOS entreaties to the choir
Of endless censors. Verse and church equate.
Flush with hide/rush tides of mutable song,
Gravid as scored headboards in a sick room,
Bursting blue-flared waves are hurtling strong,
Drowning my lonely sermons up the boom
In crowsnest pulpit piled with mags of cows
And cowed thin children hidden in the woods,
The elided passages ….
Their caught, shocked faces stamped with ‘why’ and ‘should‘.
Soaked wine in bread, lined, the choir sings and sways,
Scaffolded rope a haloed hemp of bay.
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