Poem | Dominic James

Painted Testament

The Provocative Pirouette by Bill Wolak

Look at that sky!
                Wouldn’t you say
the cloud pack is squeezed out
of the middle of the tube?

Look at those houses – rooftops,
the village has extended,
in their same old seamy beds
people curl into hutches.

And from the prophet’s pen;
at our final reckoning,
across the land the furnaces
of Los will at last be turned
to fountains on Albion’s
return.
                Then our sins will be
forgiven, as we forgive
those who trespass against us.

How the south wind blows
in this warm clamouring
isn’t it oblivion, better,
isn’t it just fabulous?