Words of The Lamb magazine

Every night
in the darkened living room

On golden silk vines
embroidered on the emerald settee –
you sit –
alone

White static glare
on a screen projecting
people on your faded velvet veil

A splintered cross – in the shadows behind you
nailed to the panelled wall –
Christ with his crown of thorns
turns his eyes down –

on the back of your grey mottled hair,
as you scrutinise
the people
on the screen

Sitting on a second-hand Solomon’s throne
you subpoena the faces –
one by one

Who will you allow
to sit down?

Suit and tie
Yes – please stay

Another face –
just one more person

A look –
in their eye

a tone –
in their voice

a word –
misaligned

a pause – a silence

No

Christ on his cross

watches silently down –
his shepherd’s eyes

on the judge –

and the judged

And the black spot
on the palm
of your hand