The church’s oak creaks into a silence
the green carnation sea already pink
a mother’s blood carries a ship of griefs
leaking as it drifts on a stained aisle carpet
speckled with stained glass sun.
The organ plays its satanic hymn
self-appointed saints jostle in choral pews
wooden faith echoes in an empty tower
dirty water churns in an empty font.
The eulogy spills over a row of logs unseen
weeping on dark suits & rose-printed tissues
as if I care about badly drawn ties
& pinholes where poppies never die.
The orphan’s cup swilled with bitter almonds
brown-fringed lilies held on a broken swing.
Simon Maddrell a queer born Manxman, thriving with HIV. Brought up in Bolton, Lancashire he recently moved to Brighton & Hove after 20 years in London. His debut chapbook, Throat Bone, published by UnCollected Press (June 2020).