The Gospel

Here I am again in her loving clutches,
The mother holding the baby in her arms
Out of this world. And here we are booze and groans.

Covered market heads convey no inner absence
Like the face of a female over wine.
And here I have found myself, my good lord,
Protected and antagonised by fools.

It’s a difficult market, and church I struggle to nail
Appropriate theses to in the midst of nothing,
Nothing but their commentaries on my Word.