Hermits for the Holiness of Holidaymakers
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
The great estates were greedy for the worst
Of gawkers. That’s a fact. The noble lords
Hired hermits, fetching coins from tourists’ thirst
Promiscuous. These ogling hordes
Would pay to stroll around a lordling’s park
And part of the attraction was to see
A troglodyte-ish sanctity as stark
As hungry hermits are supposed to be
Not just the dower house. The fasting guy
Was on display like peacocks in the trees
And deer on parkland. Pay the fee and pry
Your way to praying piety through sleaze.
He’d sit there in his sackcloth or his robe
And let the paying pilgrim eyeballs probe.
~ Phillip Whidden