Climacteric

Curled within the coiled leaf the thin gallworm

Like a priest in his hole; while glorious without

The towered house: breasts of the crinolined girl

Innocent and perfect. The cornices of dented plaster trace

The lineaments of her brown impassive face.

•

All hot pavements are walked by such young women

With curved spiked feet and inward earholes plugged.

While at their shoulder panting the insistent breath

Of persistent pursuing humanity: all

That is within forgotten as the gall.

•

Yet hidden deep the worm – priest of an alien cult

Demanding sacrifice and sustenance. Thin folded bread

Stuffed under doors. And through a pipeline of grey glass

Like blood the pulsing wine must pass.

•

But let the face pock and crumple: the thorn-foot thump:

The wasp-worm turns within the belted waist.

Like chafer or cherub fourwinged he flies

To her face and through her opened eyes.

•

He rubs his thin hands together chanting and singing

Highmass pontifical in the whole world’s sight,

While bowing the unaccustomed congregation

Blinks in the sun’s blaze; in the candle’s light.