Good luck

 

There is nothing a woman

desires from you more

than a wedding day,

and nothing that is sure

to nauseate her more

than being married to you.

 

Good luck.

 

 

 

 

Back again

Back again to say goodbye

to pantomimes I’d called my life.

I’d faked it well; I’d faked it sweet.

I’d had the girls and taken treats.

 

Indeed, it’s changed; I’m more alone.

I’ve all the reasons, now, to doubt.

And yet my spine feels strong as stone

and yet I’m light as cloud.

 

Perhaps it’s how the soul atones

and how we work shit out. 

 

 

 

 

 

One for another

One religion for another.

The wretched human heart

—the poor thing—

crawls

from one religion to another.

It grasps

for a Church.

It stretches out its desperate web

to catch an idol in the dark.

 

Today

we’re trained

to worship the rainbow.

The city streets of Adelaide

rainbowed out some more

—a call to prayer,

a call to arms

to out the closet heretic

who dares blaspheme the acronym,

the Church alive and well.

 

We need a Church,

be it old or new,

robed

or rainbowed.

 

For the heart is weak. I get it.

It’s scared to do this on its own.

 

 

 

 

Morning

 

So it all begins

to come to light.

 

It's no surprise

that we were right.

 

I hope you learned

a thing or two:

 

a bit about me,

a lot about you.

 

We'll try not rub

it in your face.

 

It never was

that kind of race.

 

Forgive, forgive

but don't forget,

 

tangled up

in history's net.

 

As one we rise.

As one we fall.

 

Some lead the way.

Some know it all.