blissfully
aware
of
your brave new architecture,
your
circular mind.
I
look past the scaffold,
the
crown of thorns
thrust
high and piccadilly
from
your unbridled wedding cake,
taste
milk and water
you
have turned to wine.
Miles
of subtle volumes
pressed
deep and still―
touchstones
lodged
like
pillars of salt,
more
beholden in salvation,
than
indulgence.
tk/February 2013
Central Library, Manchester, U.K., photograph by Robin Gosnall
