Suzanne Louise Bishop


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Best Poem of Suzanne Louise Bishop

The Service

The vicar was dead.
His son came instead,
Put on his midnight cape and
Stalked the pews, his fudge voice
Filled my mood, my head
And my long, long nights.
I used to cry when I dreamt the colour red,
My visions of silk were rebuked,
The thought of purgatory made me puke.
But I woke up in the end,
No wrathful hand of the Lord did transcend.
Father have I sinned? He mused.
Tragic masks bound to his face.
Gratuitous stuff I could erase.
I sneer at his precious concern.
All I have learned is that I am almighty.
So now my Sunday best gets worn to ...

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