St Eulalia

Down the streets rolls
St Eulalia in
a barrel of glass and knives

and survives.
She has thirteen lives
and thirteen geese

in her honour,
in Seu courtyard.
Speak the word.

Deny the Lord
or die by the sword.
O sacred heart,

shepherd of souls
and downy birds,
to whom we commend

her terrible end
and much besides,
the faithful depart

and heaven grows cold.
For all she may prate
it is pain has endured.

Yet speak but the word
with a flaming tongue
while her geese take wing

in sudden surprise,
the air full of their cries,
and she is spared –

a word of release
or Mercy, Lord –
unspoken, unheard

in this courtyard at peace.