Oh, the priest could talk,
the no talent SOB was good
in front of people,
praying for Katie,
blaming infidelity
and non-Christian lust
for her murder,
what a guy, while the family
needed comforting, not blame,
not warped theology,
not some goddam priest
smacking his lips
at the wake, drinking
the good wine, and
holding Jen's hand
like he understood.
the murderer's out there,
he's watching,
and if he runs,
by god, I'll track
him down, no goddam
priest all comfy
in his church,
self-satisfied in
his old Victorian home,
can take our love away
with platitudes
and a fake, ohsoholy smile.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
If you tend to believe romantic, passionate, masculine poetry is a thing of past eras, read "She Intrigues Me," and be swept away in the beautiful craft of a contemporary poet of love.
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