True Religion

True Religion 

"I run Belfast," her papa said

and pinched me. "For the one 

true religion," I said. He near 

backhanded me. 

               She was buried

in it since, but ten years later, 

          he ushered me through 

     Gatwick: Spec Branch 

trolled the aisles as I handed 

my passport to customs. What 

he'd done, bound him, more 

than any brass. 

               He was artillery:

Selection and maintenance 

of the aim. 

               What could a colonel

answer for? Broken knuckles, 

ankles, mashed brows? High,

one night, he said I was pissed, 

but I wanted a loo, not a bath. 

[testimony]