Jerusalem

Gestures of repudiation 

Converging 

On a market 

On a hill 

On a day when 

All the world 

Stood on its axis 

Like a watcher 

In a pill box 

Like nine parts 

Of the buttered moon 

Looking over you and 

Looking back

Over your shoulder 

Over your inception 

Over your congregation 

Over your annunciance 

Your inscription 

Your collision 

Your tumult 

Your pilloried exultation and 

The reincarnation of your eyes 

Which have eaten all the blue 

In the seven winds 

And the lunar phases 

And the wine dark Mediterranean 

No matter how insipid 

Dejected 

Or volcanic and inflammatory 

No matter how rank or progressive 

No matter how scarlet or lewd 

You turn to the world 

Like a fly 

Coughing in the mountains 

And say 

I am Jerusalem 

Who the fuck are you?

july 2017 - jerusalem