The quality of light: this, a piece
of late evening sky. How darkness
can shine: last of the sun, a first
breath of stars, a waxing moon.
Judas walks out of the small room
while they are still dining.
No one knows but Jesus
and his head is turned away.
But they can’t escape, these
protagonists, caught between
the ruby and green, the dark blue light,
the black bands of lead.
IN THE DAYS BEFORE THEY CAME FOR HIM
What interests me so much more than
those pages of scripture foxed with turning
is his choosing of a blue gown over a white;
his weighing of two stones in either hand, the one
mottled like a perfect moon, the other pale and blind
as a sleeper’s face,
and his standing by an open window
speculating the limitless sea
as a merciful place where to rest his head
against a turning back towards a roiling world
whose tide is in the flood.