Baxter at St John’s
How you fill the armchair:
neck & shoulders tilted back
with eyelids falling south;
dreaming with every star
beyond our penitent dome.
Once drunkard – now poet’s Christ:
mouth turned from bitter sponge –
how time trembles when voices
shatter the glass night –
our words crackling over ice.
©️ Orion Foote
Visions of Orion Poetry 