Moab
By Ewan
- 1937 reads
The older daughter had a son,
foul-fathered on her,
and she named him Moab.
The father was her father
“Our father who art in heaven
swallowed be thy name”:
Lot, his salt-pillar wife
insufficient for his needs.
And the Moabites? They grew like weeds
from this most unpromising of seeds.
The altar of Chemosh
Solomon’s work,
much wisdom in that,
some said, whilst enjoying rites
and rights for and with Nebu,
no relation of Chadnezzar
but perhaps the consort
of Ba’al Peor.
It is in the Numbers,
it is in the Book,
it is in the Torah:
weep, read, look.
Now the new sons of Noah,
in the false-promised land,
stand against their own Philistines.
They look for the New Megiddo
for floods, for the last trump,
louder than the horn of Joshua
and the wall not yet built
to fall outward not inward.
Yet this time Goliath,
as well name him Moab,
is on the side of alt-right
and the sling-shot shepherds
hide in the White Mountains.
- Log in to post comments