3 Poems From The Pantheist Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The House my Father Built
Weeks, he spent on building it,
A labour of love
Precision bred from devotion

Measuring, varnishing, planning
Wiring the rooms to a battery in the loft
Installing light bulbs, carpeting each space

He papered the walls, raised chimneys
With their terracotta pots
Painted the slates, inserted plastic windows
With their frames, as expertly formed
As stained glass in a kirk

The doors, both front and back, had perfect handles
Down to the letterbox, the rug

The house, in its own fixed spot,
Had a path withpainted flowers
And packs of furniture for every room
A miniature family ready to move in

I should at least have pretended it gave me joy
He'd poured so much into that house for dolls
All for his little girl, a spoiled brat
Like a fiddle, she played onhis heart

Nobody but a father loves like that
No matter what, lays out the welcome mat


Roads
Kirk roads, ferry roads
Ford roads, coffin roads
Drove roads, turnpike roads
Smugglers' tracks

Rabbit roads, whale roads
Owl roads, mole roads
Roads from Paradise
To Hell and back

Bunyan, Chaucer
Dante's Purgatory
Life is the baggage
In your soul's backpack


Alfred Charles Kinsey (1894-1956)
Sex Guru / Liberator / Pervert?
Kinsey was born, the son of a poor professor
In childhood contracted rickets, rheumatic fever
And typhoid, all ravages on his system

His parents were strict Methodists
Raised no objection to his wish
To become a concert pianist
Rejected his choice to become a science researcher
For years he studied the mating habits of wasps

From there he leapfrogged onto
Human sexuality, this bisexual man
Whom Byron would have adored

He had an open marriage
Filmed his experimenters
In flagrante delicto up in his attic
His wife bringing milk, towels, cookies
To refresh the fornicators

He interviewed paedophiles, prisoners, prostitutes
Claimed that abnormality
Was celibacy, abstinence, marriage that was delayed

Did not include in the list
His habit of urethral insertion
Inserting straws, pipe cleaners, pencils
(Even a toothbrush)into that suffering cavity

In later life he circumcised himself
With a small penknife. The question unanswered, is why?
Genius, they say, stands on a perch unsteady, prone to sway