Churches and cathedrals in Europe often have massive
stand-alone stone tombs inside, complete with
carved effigies of the dead on top. My imagination
runs riot over these long ago people … did they
know each other, and how well?
between two tombs
run whispers
(and him a Crusader knight
of boundless reknown –
she a gentlewoman
married and respected, say
the cold stone letters)
the whispers
(I hear them as I lean
against the children
carved below his body)
are of loins and tongues
long decayed
ripe with lust
the bodies lie
frigid in holiness
yet colour paints faces, fingers
and there’s a throbbing
in the stone
first published in the Cranberry Press anthology Delicious