—MO: Writings from the River, Volume 4, Issue 1, p.134
Sweet wine, flat bread, feast of flesh and blood:
summer supper and guild train getting festive.
Empty York, streets crowd
with patrons, as peacocks receive the Queen.
Wagons roll, roll out the Passion; actors weave
and Satan grasps bone dust from Adam’s speech.
Fisherman rides his ark, hosiers cross the Red Sea.
Barbers baptize, bakers take their last supper.
Painters crucify and carpenters resurrect.
And when the last wagon wheels through judgment,
the air stills into purple sky with clouds of indigo,
as daylight turns to dusk again.
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