Preacher's Boy

He taught me more than I would ever need know. I hate him for that. I love him for that.

Sleep with me again tonight and call it love.

Crucify me in the pulpit of your Father’s house.

Push me back against the cross
And I will whisper half forgotten Psalms
And half remembered hymns
And hope they take the place of words of affection I do not feel.

Roll me a joint in the vestry,
Make me a bed from your Father’s robes,
And we will lose ourselves in dream time.

Lose ourselves in fumbling hands
And clashing teeth
Two bodies made as one.

And as you lie sleeping next to me,
Dozing in post-coital bliss,
I wonder where my childhood went,
Those lazy days of Barbies, Ballet,
Sunday school classes.
Where sex was a naughty word
And boys were worse than a disease.
Where drugs were an abstract concept
Linked only with the funny man who lived in the town centre.

So sleep with me again tonight and call it love.

Crucify me in the Pulpit of your Father’s house.

Push me back against the cross,
Chase away those childhood moments,
And I will whisper half forgotten Psalms
And half remembered dreams
And hope they take the place of the words of affection I do not feel.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Kristina Moulaison]

This is raw and lovely and real, so refreshing in its truth...how complex and simple we are.

[Legion]

Wow. That was poetically gorgeous. A splendid sojourn into a strange moment of what was and what now is. Good work.