Nod in agreement, an ode to Mr Wilde <br />The architecture of a Church vessel, two halves neatly laid. <br />Norman arches, cascading in green mould <br />Hymn numbers on damp card, worn edges and over-thumbed <br />By fuming censers, grave faced boys. <br />Young. Those alone with their subtle fascination. <br />Intact - the stroke of personality I long to behold. <br />Never to accept the intellect <br />Not even the stars and the moon. <br /> <br />I look with wonder at the black confessionals <br />The kiosk damp with the musk of spoken sin <br />and shadowed deed. <br />Half-mumbled dalliances, watered-down tales. <br />Feeling the stillness in prayer. <br />And the cleansing of tap water. <br />I dream - of the men, those who have whispered through the worn grating <br />The true story of their lives.<br /><br />Ben Barton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kiosk-of-sins/
