Hear Hear the Devil is Near

~with a line from Lawrence Ferlinghetti

We were putting up a statue. Stone-

faced like winter, I watched, arms

crossed, listening in my tone-

deaf way. We were pulling on the rope—

the heft of church bells. Everything

ringing, I uncrossed my heart,

walked back. You can’t unsee.

There was a fellow who asked

what we were up to?

What were we up to—a genuflective

reflex? A board game of God &

Monuments? When the pastor came

round for tea, I knew I’d been made.

Naturally, there’s always a bit of theatre.

Consider the way hands become

shadow birds in the bright afternoon sun,

the power of shining a torch

into the dark corners. Blink blink.

Let’s give it a think my mother

said when I bolted like a horse

or wore the short skirt of sacrilege.

But now we’re getting somewhere—

maybe it’s a church square

or the cemetery out back, a stone’s

throw from City Hall. Turn right

at the statue. Or kiss the cloak—

lips slipping words into the hem—

like my fellow patriots who’ve all gone

mad. That’s what taking down

a statue can do. Even the church

goers in their Sunday best, blessed

by God & Monuments are damned.

I often think of what to ink

on my body. But I can’t undo.

So why not stay plain Jane, skin

like a white altar cloth? And then

the Holy Trinity comes to me—

sweet Jesus—like a spirit really.

What could I do but tramp stamp

the Holy trifecta? Carry

the burden of being baptized

into the communion on conspiracies.

We were raising the flag like an Olympic torch—

wearing white togas & Nikes. Everything

moving so fast, swept up. But I slept in,

alarms ringing. You can’t unknow. Again,

we were pulling on a rope—

the heft of church bells. Everything

ringing. You can’t unhear

the church bells? Hear

them ringing?