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Communion Table
By Ruth Susen Riley
oil on canvas, 40"x 50" |
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This Friday's Tilt of Earth
By William Stevenson
2003
The bones of trees stand black
among the gray November.
A table, weathered all alone
stands an altar in the weather.
Two chairs are tipped, but one like throne
of sticks and stuck with leaves—
shall a king be the one who stands alone
and dries and cracks like leather?
Shall rust and age thumb old books
as if the world gets better?
What wind is this or tilt of earth
that strips the stone and trees?
Or was it Wednesday with its ash
as found my heart with these:
a scarlet scrape, a mark of birth,
of wine that stained my skin?
Was ever cup to slake
and understand my thirst?
Or rain to wash the Cana jars
and inebriate the grape?
Was there ever nail to crucify the curse?
Would a wail wake the windows where I walk?
I watch a cripple limp upon this Friday's
tilt of earth. |
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