sacrament

At five o’clock the left side
of your sky goes blind
as the car wheels lock.

A short swim
to a breaker of rocks
yet I doubt you could make it.
More like real age
than anything
written as fact.

Only a short swim to the point one can only
swim back.

No hollow men in hope of penitence.
A number you can choose to call
or not to call.

Had I noticed sooner,
only hell could be as beautiful;
its nightly certain service.

Jonathan Jones is a freelance writer and academic currently living and working in Rome. He qualified in 1999 with his MA in Creative Writing from Bath Spa University College and in 2004 with an MRes in Humanities from Keele University. He now teaches writing composition at John Cabot University in Rome.

He has had several pieces of work published in The New Writer, Poetry Monthly, Iota, East Jasmine Review, The Doctor T. J. Eckleburg Review, Negative Capability Press and Dream Catcher.

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