Altar Boy

   
See how the Avenue stirs  
air greening to the tumble of leaves  
fresh new branches  
dancing to the oldest hymns  
the highest notes stillborn  
dying young on a wither of winds  
   
The congregation are gone  
voices from the choir have stilled  
their hopes boxed like jewels  
robes folded neatly after vespers  
to hang in peace beside the pews  
   
Now there is only me  
alive to tremble in His house  
ready for the race of its red brick heart  
for its leap and stutter  
past the rage of a silent tear  
   
How I know that flicker of candles  
that shuffle of footsteps over stone  
the swirl of cassock on ankles  
and that awful loneliest echo  
come to crush the sound of my name  
   
But it's always a shock  
to feel the pain of unholy fingers  
tearing deep at the shreds of my soul  
although Father tells me    
that to climb to heaven  
we should cleanse our sins with shame  
   
When the cleaning is over  
I stare to the highest saints  
recite Hail Ma-rys in the lowest whisper  
sweeping dirt in the shadows of the vestry  
at nine years old my lifetime's faith  
stained beyond belief  
   
And Father says  
we must tell no-one  
until I feel just like a twig  
broken to serve    
and follow His will  
crushed by religion's feet