One by one they fall, these people I have known, or loved, or merely liked – some far removed from worlds in which I lived; some with whom I laughed have also gone. To where I do not know. Oh, you departed: please come back and laugh again so I might laugh with you while railing at what’s yet to come. Tomorrow? Or perhaps a distant day? Who knows? Some knew; but some did not, and left abruptly, shock or sadness trailing in their wake – good friends or vague acquaintances who, turning pages...

This original poem, ‘Missa’, by Matthew Robinson, follows the structure of the Catholic Mass – moving through Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Osanna, Benedictus and Agnus Dei – but instead of a sacred ritual, it presents a very raw, earthly encounter with suffering, helplessness and aftermath. Missa Kyrie From fifty yards away I laughed to see a creature acting daft. Along the road a tabby cat was prancing like an acrobat and somersaulting everywhere. Perhaps the sun and fresh spring air, the...

Saving my Smoting I have got incontrovertible, absolute, divine Proof of Non-God. I have been so incontrovertibly, absolutely, divinely sinful, I should have been smote from here to Kingdom Come. Yes, I should have been smote, not whispering: I’ve had some lucky escapes! Unless – He (or She more like) is saving my smoting for when I least expect it, savouring it Ten Thousand Times over. No, I don’t think so. I think Non-God nods as my sins run round and round and round and round my head. ...