Sophia's parents
(Polish refugees
during WW2)  
have a large crucifix

above their double bed;
wooden, with a plaster cast
Christ whose features are dour,
some aspects chipped.

She enters the room;
a smell of staleness,
pipe smoke,
her mother's

old fashion scent.
She looks at the crucifix;
kneels on the bed,
and rubs the feet

of the plaster cast Christ;
remember the time
when her parents
were away for the day,

and she brought
that Benny boy in here
and they made love
on the bed,

she laying there,
tapping his buttocks
to ride him on;
looking up

at the features
of the dour Christ,
no change of expression;
Benny's fast breathing

hot by her ear,
the whole arena
somehow surreal,
lacking meaning,

a purposeless show.
After he'd done
and left
and she tidied up

and made the bed
and smoothed
the covers
and looked

at the Christ
the dourness
was still there,
but a sense

of disappointment
hung in the air.