Jesus sits on a cold stone
His arse has gone to sleep
As have all his tired cronies
They’ve been walking for years
To this treacherous grove
Towards this one moment

His feet tingle
Pins and needles pre-empt
The coming savagery

Out in a wilderness as usual
He sweats the blood of unanswered prayer
Fever chilled in the Gethsemane
Of our time
Pissing gallons down a staining rock
The stench alone decries divinity

Doubt racked
His demon whispers through the sway of Olive
And Juniper
That corruption breeds
Feeds
On the idolatry of others

He envisions another man’s kiss
Who believes the very same

Jesus trembles in the warm air
While the multitude snore on
Spitted
Like suckling pigs
Agog

Christ is hanging on a cut tree
His suffering has infected us
With such love
For bloody sacrifice

He’s raises his bruised eyes to heaven
He’s giving up the ghost
The spirit
That was us