Dark blue, shark sleek clean-lined
cracked creature with a nervous tic twitching,
hopping sideways, hopping mad in a ragged yellow tree.
Bad bird chatter and gibberish swears
come from the shank-beak, alien words
from the glittering mind in the yellow ragged tree.

Grace, Again

You – you forget. You can’t afford to –
It fades over time. You’d better record it.

It was in the morning that you nearly got the bends
stumbling from the dark dream of a sleeping house
into the shock of a vast and frigid room.

The sky domed over the black topography
of rooftops, power lines and trees
was the soaring ceiling of the room,
and the whole edifice was awake with blue,
and the blind eye of the moon
was looking at you.

For a second, you froze.
Your breath smoked under that gaze.
Every individual drop of dew
blazed in that light, and Mars,
a planet for Heaven’s sake (and ours),
was simply there while you started the car.

Then there came a dawn of relief.
Then there came a diamond peace.
And something else – a memory
lost to you for quite a while –
the feeling of a conscience coming clean –
a clear-cold calm, enormous as the morning –
rooms and rooms of calm, and great halls
filled with freshness. You were crying at the door.

All along, you had believed –
you thought without thinking
you could fix your mistakes. You had to.
You’d failed. And then it was impossible to change.

But this: dew, moon, Mars,
stars, a little further up and on,
galactic chandeliers!
Maybe this was a glimpse of the room
that Christ is preparing for you.