24th

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24TH


Come morning we’ll gather, celebrate 

His scandalous intrusion past 

our scribbled sign which rashly read,

No trespassing on pain of death, 

His uncoerced decision to descend

to time and tidy up the mess

we’d made about the place.


But that, of course, must wait.


This is the Endless Night, 

when hours flop fat and heavy like flat

tires, so what are we to do but toss

and turn and trust the ache is

evidence of something worth the wait, 


then wait?


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