Gloss Black

They repainted tall railings
set around a granite tomb
[but left metal on gates to
to curdle to flakes of rust
in old layers]/ Here Lies A
Father & Husband/ Loved
By His Family [lies – damn
lies]/Born & Died & other
worn words read less well
what with rain & pollution
ingresses ‘tween palisades
retouched by a servant of
our parish – paid well by a
priest who cannot lift any
tool or know how to begin
[except in Genesis & other
fairy stories]/Give it winter
& a cruel spring & we will
see those gates limp as if
St Peter was superfluous/