Jude

A galaxy unto himself, Sisyphus bearing his rock
upon his back, collapsed squat as an accordion
exhaled. The body-elongated hugged
knees to chin, face clasped between,

gravity’s slow pull to earth. He will unwind
into Leonardo da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man,
outstretched arms winging from
the geometric confines of the square

into the universe, harmonious circle.
Look closely, his grimace
now a spreading smile,
gentle wisdom.

E. J.

He gospels in line neighbors
from the streets, blues bass guitar,
Jesus singing welcome, children,
to a hot meal casserole,

backup chorus of hand-clapping Sisters,
throbbing iPhone speakers–
Lord, have mercy; Christ, have mercy,
communal forgiveness

on a full stomach. He knows
what it means to be unhoused
and hungry. Precious Lord,
take my hand; lead me home

to the City of Light,
all the steaming helpings
one could want and urns
of sweet tea,

re-fills of Grace, Mercy
in the music of the streets.

Sammie

It was only borrowed time
until a demon-lover called her
off the curb into the night
of oncoming traffic,

stairway to the only heaven
available to a cast-off young woman
refusing to curse God and die.
“Don’t touch me!” she would cry

to anyone reaching out,
what could be comfort or curse,
only the volunteer pastor
permitted close, what offered him

a margin of peace
after that phone call
that night.

Prayer Partners

Hands rise, palms open,
bearing again each day the name of
a displaced child, distraught mother,
little ones Jesus called to follow him,

the ragtag congregation known,
a field of wheat waving,
wild flowers–beauty for a day,
enough for a lifeline of remembrance,

beauty that lifts the weary, calls home
the strayed lamb, the lame waiting
on an angel to stir the waters
of healing, calming the tempest

of the streets: lap of love,
soft hand upon a cheek,
whisper of each forgotten name.