A Swiss Holiday

by Iain Maloney

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He stood in stance as Jesus Christ

Who up a top the Olive mount

In peaceful garb did break the wave

Of future times to those below.

He drank the wine above the lake

From broken glass poured blood to mouth.

Communed with water, now as one,

Baptised in ice of Lac Leman.

Immersed ‘neath blue of mountain flow

Heroically he screamed his pain.

The miracle became erased:

The healthy man now lame becomes.

He calling forth the name of God

Did froth and foam like rabid dog.

The wine turned water soaked him through

And lo he needed cloth of new.

He staggered round from street to street

Like Leper in the Roman times

And mumbled incoherently

Like those in Glasgow, Friday night.

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Iain Maloney is a writer who spends his time trying to convince publishing companies of this fact. When not explaining to people why he hasn’t won the Booker prize yet he sits in a darkened room rocking back and forth listening to Radiohead and planning his speech for when the people of the world finally ask him to take over and run things with an iron fist. His list of those to be first against the wall will be published in seventy-two pop-up volumes in time for Christmas.