Modern Articles of Faith — George Moore
July 28, 2012 § 1 Comment
Inside cragged walls, a ruined church, boys are
kicking a ball where a king once crowned his son
and told him, mercy will not save you. By our time,
only the yard around the cathedral walls is left,
and we hump history through the broken arms of doors,
to stone breastplates of sarcophagi worn nameless,
though a flyer says another king was born, died, and then
the church followed. Spaces now open to the sky.
The ball rolls to a stop before our feet and dies,
as shouts go up through the hobbled choir, half-fallen
archways once hung with heavy tapestries,
and now the sounds of boys screaming decrees.
With evening, the ghosts arrive. The son beheaded
by his father, the king, when there was talk
of treason. I snap a shot of the ruptured cupola
as night creeps in. It’s too cool for this season,
but the grass has come to life, the ramparts fall to darkness,
as the boys pick up their ball and head for home.