Seal up those things which the seven thunders uttered
and write them not

1: Time no longer

processions & parades,
displays of public fervour

the many-coloured madam
manifests divinity

orphreys & precious stones
dalmatic & chasuble over his alb

the fierce & gentle qualities
of suffering

distillation of sanguinity
the corpuscles & the salt

the glimmering world is the past
it flickers in & out of our lives

in a halfcrazed round
of nursery songs

penitentiary doors
inlaid with graffiti

gilded columns, ornate
painted & pargetted rooms

the past is everywhere
at either side of the altar

gothic arcading in Manhattan
frescoes rich & modern to the age

processions parade
the darker side of fervour

many-coloured madmen
penitents & flagellants

a man disguised as an animal
peeps at a prostitute with scalloped sleeves

the distinctive sound of psalters
slipped back onto shelves

into the grey uncultivated sky we climb
step by tedious step

edges worn perilous
by pilgrims & the perfect

wicked men attack
divine authority

essences of sanctity
& sin

shameless science exults

2: Lest ye be judged

Brooklyn gothic, perpendicular brownstone
a priest with a hamburger
grease stains on cassock sleeves

behind shiny glass
jewels borrowed from the Egyptians
chasubles in lightweight Lurex

every world is immutable
the torn & broken edges blurred
thumbed-over ends of bread half-stale
to be cooked again or puddingstone
warmed over

we travel by wagons-lits & tram
not crawling as penitents
but this is St Anthony’s thumb
or the prepuce of a post-lapsarian divine
– the deep belief of those
who still wear down the stepstones
with their flesh & bones require it

forensics pick for flesh beneath the nail
scratched surfaces of paint
– rood deliverance
from iconic burdens, dyed in the wood –
hold up a glass & see the stains

the castle we enter retains
many aspects of the prison
graffiti in the stonework

in his house he will chant impiety
he stripped off his robes
& also prophesied

beware of the scribes

if this is all true I have been betrayed

Copyright © Aidan Semmens, 2007.

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Aidan Semmens was co-editor of Perfect Bound and Blueprint magazines and founding editor of Molly Bloom. His poetry has appeared in a number of small press magazines, and online in Jacket, Jack, Great Works and Stride. His short collections from the 1970s, reluctantly and The News Pages are out of print.