Clockwise Cat Strikes Back

men of the world prepared for trouble,
for drunken old men who can’t keep their peace
and wreck the scene like an ancient Quaker.
“I’m sorry,”
he sobs, wiping his nose with his hand
as they sweep him gently, firmly out the door.
No raging Quaker here. A drunken publican
prone to breakdowns, he knows he has sinned.
At the pulpit, a young priest,
a guest, a stranger here.
“I forgive you,”
he sighs, palms up at his shoulders,
confused and embarrassed,
but not speechless.
The sermon concludes
with a brilliant repudiation
of the Gnostic gospels
Author bio: James writes: “I am a psychotherapist in Massachusetts where I accompany
adolescents and adults who have been stunned by lives with too little meaning in the
heart of an empire in decline. Many have found alcohol or opioids to be a temporary,
teasing promise of relief from an unbearable awareness that won't stay buried. Recent
poems have appeared in The Fear of Monkeys, Blue Lake Review, Assisi, and Gathered:
Contemporary Quaker Poets. His first collection, The Year I Learned the Backstroke,
was published last year by Aldrich Press.”