That’s when the monasteries started to fill up
like hostels for backpacking generals.
The monks declared it an honour to give refuge
to the very tall, the very catholic defenders of Islam.
With god anything is possible.
An honour for me too father to be a guest in your house,
a sniper shot from the ruins of Bakic’s old monastery,
our little pig-boy who ran away with the Turks.
Forgive me father, I have sinned but we’ll get to that…
First, I want to know how to become untouchable like you.
Child, let me tell you what I told Omar
who passed this way not so long ago —
a little strange perhaps
coming from a man in my position
but in all sincerity, I tell you this:
never let yourself be kissed.
Look what happened to Christ.
And remember — Judas didn’t hang himself,
a necessary myth no doubt,
people need to believe in karma or yoga.
The truth is, he holed up in the desert for a while —
people forget sooner than you think —
he returned to local politics,
won a seat in parliament,
the Six Day War, the Star of David —
I’ll show you his grave the next time we’re in the Holy Land;
as my uncle used to say, our monasteries
are the best hotel chain in the world.
And one more thing:
don’t be fooled by the New Testament,
stick with the old.
Jesus was wrong when he said:
let bygones be bygones.
Not on your life!
Round here, bygone is krypton.
Five hundred years is nothing.
We’d be lost if we couldn’t scratch our old wounds.
Heraclitus was wrong, we put the same pieces
back on the table over and over again.
By the way, do you remember that French man,
that joker eating trout in the Holiday Inn?
Laurence O’Dwyer | Holiday Inn
Contents | Mudlark No. 75 (2023)