‘My brother is a Coptic priest,’the Egyptian leant over
from an adjoining table,
concerned we might have thought
the long black robes and grey beard
belonged to a Muslim cleric,
despite the large crucifix at his chest,
and having captured our attention
continued to explain the finer differences
between the three orthodoxies,
and extolling the virtues of the Dutch.
And so unlikely a pair they seemed
that I was put in mind of a pimp
selling the assets of his finest girl,
as we studied the old steam boat
creeping across the lake towards the pier,
before rising from our seats without
obvious haste and wishing them
Happy Easter.
John H Davies
30th April 2011
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