sitting in the bower
after lunch with
my sadness
like unto Magdalene
our defectiveness known all around
the town
(a passion for extravagant apology)
(flimsy promise to do better from now on)
I knew the crowd had stones
heating the hollows of their hands
(the teacher has always shown me
the underlying structure of
a situation, though often
years after I no longer cared, was
no longer there, at all)
stone and bread are alike
in the hands of the just
bread and stone the same