Somewhere in Dublin a frigid forecourt in storm
North King Street worming behind Four Courts
Wet catchyourdeath chill alright, oldtown silhouette
Later belching towers’ll smoulder there, giant cigarettes
Nearby St. Stephen’s lazaret
Outside which stabbed faction fighters are left after a decent Donnybrook
Melee broke out, two villages a single scrimmage
Such blood spillage a vampire killing ten could not pillage
In the laneways near Guinness’ Gates, some made escape
Took fifty soldiers to stop it, it’ll take fifty maids to mop it
Stephen: tonsured deacon modestly dressed sooths souls duressed
One poor woman from Naul illed by Billy in the Bowl, mightily stressed
He will not recuse himself but stands bauld accuser
Rising from pews mandated silent, save responsorials
Lifting his voice, pointing, anointing due sin to murderous pharisees
If words were arrows and faith a bow to send them with
His wit hath bullet-speed, each true hitting
Such is not this God, such is not this world
He was dragged, praying, away from that holy place
Decrying debased now, calling erasure! church and state
Down crowded knave, past sawing braziers highlighting Christ’s stations
All the way to the doorway and cold, waiting pave
As dragged out pulls font’s base, dislodging its basin
Lustral water forming, spilled mercury missed catch thermometer
Paul Saul Tarsus still, barbarous Tartar using martyrs for target practice
Sinless stones casting like a peltast, the Apostle’s lesser acts
Stephen is a friend to all, yet many tender him ungracious
Wren, songful snake, sings highting subterfuge, giving away
His location to waiting enemies, who with striated stones
Painted with bands and fastens marking aeons passage
Pelt him, breaking his every bone unto eternal glory
Horrific lithic death leant irony by masonic patronage
They who stain’d glass frame, brick eloquence famed
Bathing dust-gloved hands submerge
Subaqueous phases
Hands dulcifying detritus to alcheme sweet whiteness
As heightens a Cathedral’s stateliness.
Alchemisland 
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