Blot-out clouds censor silver scales
over the apartment block hills
whilst the Zodiac gathers
to overseer the olive groves.
Corfu truly is a place for astrologers.
the young Corfiots
drink expensive continental lagers,
the Local Mythos on draught
and imported bottles of Heineken.
So it is incumbent upon me to witness
Zeus drape his lightning mantle
across the shoulders of Seranda
whilst pissing into the sea.
My piss is a yellow cable,
the lightning a digital flash,
a bleached jpeg
of invisible Albanians.
One thought on “Blaspheme by Chris Stewart”