Poem: ‘The Pomegranates of Patmos’

Letters

Vol. 11 No. 13 · 6 July 1989

From George Szirtes

My brother, my bright twin, Prochorus,
Was Christian way back in his youth
Till the LRB spread all before us
and Harrison cried: it’s the Truth!

Prochorus could see it at once,
for he read the great gospel in full:
and St John being labelled a dunce,
the eagle flew off, left the bull.[*]>

But symbols aside to Kerygma:
the truth is a fact there’s no ducking.
Life is delightful from rho down to sigma
when Harrison’s doing the fucking.

My brother, my bright twin, Prochorus,
For Patmos read Pathos throughout:
Now Harrison’s fucking in chorus,
You’ll fuck along with him no doubt.

It only remains now to pray
that at all times we may pass the cup,
that we may be found on the very last day,
sucked off, licked out and fucked up.

[*] The eagle was not only John’s, it was neither religious nor pagan but a hulking great brute with bald bonce who hailed from the US of Reagan.

Nor was the bull Luke’s, I add, but a creature virile sans comparison, something stamping and sexy and glad, – in fact not dissimilar to Harrison.

George Szirtes
Budapest