Undertaking Remedials



I haven’t been here for a while, not since
I was a haughty teen and the priest said
we’d all go to hell no matter what path
we chose. What’s the point, I thought –
no matter what remedials I took, I was
headed for clouds of sulphurs
and an afterlife akin to a lit matchstick.
So anyway, as I was saying, or rather
writing since that’s what I’m doing,
I haven’t been here for a while, and I’m
not ashamed to say that I’ve rather missed
the old place. The smell of damp sandstone
that pinches at your nostrils, and those wooden
pews buffed to a miraculous shine, which
is what comes from 500-years of arses
swiping their way along its considerable
burnish length – slowly sliding in but
sliding out faster, fidgeting and squirming,
broad bums swish-swiping about and each
movement resurrecting a high gloss shine
on these leaf-carved planks of oak. Yes.
Much to my surprise, I’ve missed my
Sunday mornings at our old parish church.
Doubt that I’ll tell anyone that though;
might be a while ‘til I return again.

This is photo is (c) Misky, Reverie #40: Quantum Poetry – Strange Loops

Author: Misky

‘Misky’ lives in the UK surrounded by flowers, freshly baked bread, and always keeps dog biscuits in her pocket for her blind Springer Spaniel. She never buys clothing without pockets. Her work is widely published.

6 thoughts on “Undertaking Remedials”

    1. I suspect that there are a lot of memories caught up in that church. It’s ancient; the foundations date back to Norman occupation of this area.

  1. I, too, like that miraculous shine. Interesting. All my churches were younger than I was. Kinda low in the mystery department. Yours makes me thing of one of my grandmother’s quilts after a lot of lye washing.

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