Jesus planed a table


I dreamt of you once in a mortal coil

it was an unspectacular day in your life,

your lips were black from olives like the earth had kissed you,

as if the wood knew your hands so gave you its fruit, its flesh.


I dreamt of a splinter embedded in your nail and you flinched,

You left it there a grain of you to bloom when the pilum came,

I woke up at the point you stared at me,

through me, like a crown without a king.


I dreamt of a Palestinian child throwing bread to galilee geese,

his shadow walked on water as sun made wine of disputed sea.

There are no resurrections here anymore

A cross is a grave, a child, a mother-skin.


I dreamt that Jesus planed a table from a fell olive tree,

he ate the fruit to respect it then dined from its boughs.

There was a leper by his side, face covered

His eyes blazed like stars swallowed whole.


I awoke in the throats of jackdaw and wren,

The apparition of you and I in disturbed cotton,

Our Turin shroud that led me to believe I am human and being,

I sleep each night how you levitated on wood forgiving me, us.

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