Patient Judas

Abbaye de Vaux le Cernay AUF

Patient Judas

There is always a professional listener


Who leans back and folds

His arms across his chest,

Nods quietly, approvingly,

Because you have just said

What he expected

Or he is falling asleep,

Eyes wide on you.

The tape runs – yours faithfully.

In his one-way silence, the Master

Teaches the art of soul-striptease.

He could anticipate your new skin

And might see it fig-leaved, Freudian,

Unisex, please!

Roomy enough for your beliefs.

But he leans back and indulges

In the past tense of your tales:

The youthful sins

And the hours you spent looking

For four-leaved clovers in the unfit

Carpet of marriage.

He drinks in your life like a sponge

To be squeezed to the last sob into Lethe

At the end of the tape.

The appointment card feels in your hand

Doubtful as a passport to a state of grace

Reached via self-treason.

You renew it each week,

Unloving yourself,

Betraying your pain to the liberal ear.

And he nods patiently,

Rhythmic as an articulated toy,

Eyes right through you,

Weighing his next case already –

Also worth, to a sin,

Thirty pieces of silver.




© C.W. 1982

23:37 Écrit par Chris47 dans Poems in English | Lien permanent | Commentaires (0) |  Facebook |

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