I see Jesus’ blood
has dried and the holes
in his wrist have healed
and filled in but not as much
as his robust belly while the
hair and beard have grown long
and turned snow white
He’s happy again at the
money changer’s tables
securing gifts for everyone
with his fat red smile
fat red suit and red hat
though I have to wonder
if under all that lives
a lonely soul on a crucifix
wearing a crown covered in blood
dressed in scarlet-ruined rags
still looking at the sky
waiting for an answer
Opmerkingen