Scent of a further country where worse
Furies promenade and bask their claws.
Father, be in
no doubt: we have seen
Hell. The stain
is clear and spreading.
Our hands are clean
enough, the urinals
flush well,
but there is still
at the end of it all
this disgusting smell.
Forgive us, Lord.
Some things are hard
and our words
failed us. We heard
little, misread
so much. Scared does
for sacred now, showbiz
for psalms and proverbs;
so, sex it up please
oral pro nobis
Second Nature: James Lindesay’s Poetry 