wordsout by godfrey rust
The sailing of the ark  < 35 of 45


Put down this bag of words,
coins for a potter's field. Whose

likeness do they bear? God is diminished
by all our explanations: we have made

Christ in our own image, scourged him
with the whips of our doctrines, wrapped

his beaten body in our purple prose,
frozen his agony in window glass

and made the cross a trinket. In all we know
there is no analogue for Golgotha:

but for three hours on a Friday afternoon
Jerusalem lay in unearthly darkness

till on a scaffold the eternal word
hung silent, staring, gape-mouthed, perfectly dead.

potter's field Bought by Judas with his thirty pieces of silver cf Matthew 27:7.