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What Remains
by Philip F De Pinto
Imagine me an Agnostic cathedral
In which the culled of certainty congregate
With the obese in believing who have come to be made rail thin
Imagine me a trough brimming not with holy water but gin
As a way to fixate and ruminate upon a bludgeoned faith
Buttressed by notions other than harrowing winds - withal
The more than astringent symbolism swashbuckling above
But to suggest a vast and intuitive and commensurate love
In whose briny barrels no pickling faith is preserved
In whose pews no one kneels or prays or is served
Save a few tics and hiccups of an old belief
In whose strident vaults droop no chandeliers
Nor perched brief
Nor vast coterie of fat cherubim but lean
Gargoyles and griffin to swoop down on the carnage of tears
He cups in his hands - to nit and pick their rue crystal clean
And can you imagine when such fastidious diners are through
Ravishing such doleful seeds as will never bud in God's ears
What remains but to floss their beaks with prayer beads
09/26/2013 Posted on 09/26/2013
Copyright © 2024 Philip F De Pinto
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 09/26/13 at 08:24 PM I was stopped in my tracks by "culled of certainty" - love it, love it, love it! Popped this into favorites to mull over and extract all that remains. |
| Posted by Shannon McEwen on 09/30/13 at 12:15 AM absolutely love the line "In whose briny barrels no pickling faith is preserved" |
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