Dali Rage

At the foot of Christ of Saint John of the Cross

a man in a Seventies Soviet top

with CCCP in big white type

goes mad as he tries to photograph

the icon oil on his Virgin Phone.

Excuse me he tuts to pensioner gangs

who shuffle his arty field of fire.

Worshippers keep on barging across

with buggies, crisps and Somerfield bags.

He turns an atheist shade of red.

He feels as if he’s about to burst.

A small boy with a Roman helmet

squeezes and weaves his way to the front,

determined to get a place

at the crucifixion, Jesus without a face,

hanging in sky above the sea.

Everyone loves a surrealist with taste.

Forgive them Sal, they know not what

they do. Messiahs bring out the worst.

Graham Fulton was born in 1959 and lives in Paisley in Scotland. He's been writing and performing his poetry for many years and has had work included in many publications, anthologies and online journals in Great Britain including The North, Ambit, Edinburgh Review, Orbis, Other Poetry, Poetry Nottingham, Dream State: the New Scottish Poets, Poetry Book Society Anthology and Best Scottish Poems of 2006 online anthology. His previously published collections include Humouring the Iron Bar Man (Polygon), Knights of the Lower Floors (Polygon) and Ritual Soup and other liquids (Mariscat).