Poem Written On a Sunday
Poem Written On a Sunday
By Gavin Lambert
At church
They all pray but
I’ve got no one
To pray to
So I stay home
On Sundays and
Write poems instead
Or play guitar
Yesterday it occurred
To me that if you were
To look at our house
From above
It would look like
A cross and it occurred
To me that if there
Was a God, a Christian
God, that that might
Please Him,
To look down at my
Neighborhood
And see a nice neat
Grid of empty crosses
Like bull’s eyes
Piously staring up at Him
Or
It could just as easily be
A bit disconcerting
For Him to see them all
All the subdivisions
Of the world
Bearing up at Him
Their empty crucifixes
A constant beckoning
To Him for
More blood
I guess it’s just a matter
Of perspective
I really like this. The only thing, to me, is that it could’ve flowed better. Maybe as a prose poem? The revelries here about God are interesting and I love the idea of blending suburbanization with religious sentiment. My opinion: God looks down at the roofs, nudges Jesus (seated to the right), and asks “What the hell is this all about?”