Oh, what is left this world, its might?

 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

I welcome comments and criticism

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