Saints, gargoyles, Kings, and imps,
mix, match and mingle.
The beatific and the ogres
hang over slate roofs
like drunks at closing-time.
The stone-masons were subversives,
they must have drank on the job,
yet Remigius de Fécamp, Bishop Alexander,
and St Hugh of Lincoln
all signed off on this unholy riot.
Fire and earthquakes only encouraged
more irreverent flamboyancy.
Gradually `Mary Mother' took over the house
sweeping granite spiders out of the atrium,
boxing the ears of errant goblins,
yet much medieval and Gothic dangle remain.
The effrontery of it,
all those capricious aberrations,
lead us to believe, not so much in God,
but the sheer immensity of our
rebellious and disorderly minds.
General Poetry - post, comment, review, critique
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