THE WOUND OF LOVE

She leans forward
Into me

To pounce upon
My faith in God

And expose it
As a fantasy

In which I hide
For comfort

A  way of avoidance
The need of reassurance
But I assure her

He has long since
Ceased to comfort
Or crutch me

More a dagger now
Embedded in my breast

A wound in me that bleeds
A blessing

The wound of love

COUNTRY PRIEST

He was trendy once
Star of the Holy Show

Great with the youth
And kind to the old

Being all things to all

God carved him
Into the rock
Of this place

And in his ageing now
He has the leathered
Face of a mountain

Bachelor

Ironing his own shirts
Or not

The housekeeper's day
Being over

The crumpled frayed
Edges of him more visible

Irrelevant to the worldly
Wise

But the old love remains
Waiting in the window
Of his eyes

A blessing for the vital
Moments

When all else has failed