Dies Irae
The vacant kirk clings to foundations
with iron pins riven through palms
of faith to resist reversals
of random gravities, days shaken
in a dice-pot then spilled
to form fresh readings
raptor sky-swirl seeking rapture,
catkins dangle – ropes to glory;
this round ends the next begins,
so pay your tithe if you want in;
the river wakes, takes to wing,
toted like a new-born
on its palanquin
by cardinal water fowl
in singing procession,
circling wider over sand and sea,
their evening requiem:
Day of wrath and doom impending
Heaven and earth in ashes ending.
Bob Beagrie has published numerous collections of poetry and several pamphlets, most recently And Then We Saw The Daughter of the Minotaur (The Black Light Engine Press 2020), Civil Insolencies (Smokestack 2019), Remnants written with Jane Burn (Knives, Forks & Spoons Press 2019), This Game of Strangers – written with Jane Burn (Wyrd Harvest Press 2017) and Leasungspell (Smokestack 2016). He lives in Middlesbrough and is a senior lecturer in creative writing at Teesside University.
Fantastic poem. I love ‘ropes to glory’ and the river wakes, takes to wing,/ toted like a new-born/ on its palanquin’ – such rich writing.
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