I can’t write poems about the Fall
Plastic window, curtain calls
Coloured clothes pegs and the iron
Men with names like Kid and Lion
I can’t write poems about my school
Nor algebraic rings of fools
I hate to eat from plates at dinner
Am I on the spectrum, not a sinner?
I cannot write about the Christ
Evoking grief at sacrifice.
Paedophilia hid by men
Men whose lies might come again
Oh, what is left this world, its might?
Seek the grace to see and fight
