Poetry

Blasphemous Revelations from a Grassy Hillock

O, to leave my mind behind, blind
Drunk on love, and nonsense like that;
In reality, just drunk.  But O, to climb
Up above the old Methodist church, abandoned,
Piss in through broken glass -
(stained shards, now unclean).

A renaissance of sorts, but gassy
Bulldozers will be soon upon us: an earthy,
Sober expression, to lay it flat.
They’re building flats.

Jesus Christ.  Eyes shut.  Won’t look.
I shelter just outside the door, hoping
To delay our sterile judgement.

David Turton