N.S. of London

Concerning the altar at St. Stephen Walbrook

Could this be Vanbrugh's quinsy? This
polished sac of pus - a block, a choke, to fancy?
Breathless calm: no ornament is left.
An end? Perhaps. Or else a simple pivoting
of travertine, which knows not
Moore, nor feeble Michelangelo.
Acanthus claws up through the cracks
of Isaac's table, David's toes, and even Peter's lofty shell,
shot through by an eighteen-pounder.

Peace, now.
The drum-skin, taut and set
for mass, has almost ceased its hum.
A drumming, pounding din became a drone,
an organ tone, a white cross lost inside its ring.
A Brodie dome, a sight of Saul.
Someone crowned Saint Stephen's bashed-in Kentish skull
with copper, bleached inside the cavity and lifted it,
magnificent; someone picked a pagan stone
and cast it at the centre.

Photographs

Circular Altar 1972 (LH 630)