I wrote this the day after seeing 'Antichrist', about 18 months ago, and read it at the Poet's Café in Reading that night. Let us say the applause was more 'Thank God he's finished!' than 'Encore!'. I publish it now as an appropriate beginning to Holy Week.
for Lars von Trier
The maenad cuts Her clit with scissors, pulls
blood from His prick. Tiresias nods and laughs
at agony in woody places, full
of nothing new. The gynocide is crafted
by three beggars, and Satan’s church is nature.
Grief is a Deer, her stillbirth hanging aft.
Pain is a Fox that gnaws its belly – state
of chaos. Despair’s a Crow that never ends
until the maenads climb a lonely hill to rend