The Gates

A Poem by Marshall

Swinging slowly in the aftermath of sin
the gates swung on well oiled hinges
those who rushed in had baggage to hide
those who didn't stood in the q
waiting turns at redemption.

The devil popped his horns around the corner
shouting names from a list- nobody answered.
But peter, that guy, without capital spellings
had this great book of columns
yet a few stepped out of line, hands
in the air of ownership.

Purgatory had hand-painted signage
further down
and those who claimed no heaven
or hell quietly formed a third Q
waiting to let themselves in here
for all eternity.

'at least in this place'said one young fella
'you can slow cook, like a tender bbq
and watch the dancing girls
swirl around on the tables
balancing between sin
and eternal innocent happiness'

I immediately joined this
long healthy line of thinkers
philosophers and charlatans!