Ian Caws
Vagrant
Someone gave him a missal. He
Shoved it in his pocket, stretched out
In a dark corner of the church,
Glimpsed Mass through bleary lids. A shout
During the sanctus reminded
Us he was there. He made a lurch
Out of some bad dream, coughed. Very
Quickly he settled, eyeballs red
With liquor, seeped urine drying
on his clothes. The blessing brought a
Finish to his brief warmth. Christ's stone
Shelter closed its door. He grunted,
Went out to take the wind's slicing,
Avoided the holy water.
Eyes from a crucifix stared down
On his crawling hair. Night waited.
Page(s) 25
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