‘Till the organ turns to rust’
In the chapel in the moonlight
The organ turns to rust
And snowy hoots resound.
Its pipes spill faith, betray trust,
Bleed wind from blinking, steely eyes;
Its stops no longer start,
The leaking nave invites the skies…
In the chapel in the moonlight
When the organ turns to rust
Unhandled manuals are wrenched apart:
All stays unexplained a priori,
Resurgam over the lintel lies
And pro tem is never forever
In such dispirited damp…
In the chapel in the moonlight
As the organ turns to rust
A hologrammed celebrant
Depresses keys unlocking an unidentifiable tune –
Neither ancient nor modern
It whimpers and meanders
Between the sodden graves…
To the chapel in the moonlight
While nesting nightjars peek
Canters an errant knight hobo,
Heart threadbare on his sleeve.
Knocking back a stirrup cup,
He mutters a hollow mantra
To glimpse his absent angel,
Diaphanous talismanic lacuna.
Then he knew the time had come as it surely must
For ash to propagate to ashes and roses choke in dust
And he cradled the organ as it turned to rust…
Julian Isaacs
Image Nick Victor