Golgotha – poem by Anthony Watts



Their work done,
the soldiers withdraw.

The crowd hustles forward, smartphones
held aloft like elevated hosts.

(Eli, Eli…)

Someone edges in close for a selfie,
arm around the wood – but the bleeding feet
are out of shot above his head.

(…lama sabachthani)

They begin to drift away
in search of livelier entertainment.

Golgotha by Anthony Watts was commended in the Sentinel Literary Quarterly Poetry Competition (August 2018) judged by Roger Elkin

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