I'm the first to blunder ashore
******* a cloak around my nakedness.
He's cooking breakfast
as though nothing had happened.
No death on a tree, no empty tomb,
no walking through closed doors.
We share the bread he breaks,
relish flakes of sizzling fish
that juice our mouths, tang
the fingers we lick clean.
We pick bones from our teeth,
bask,full-bellied,and for a while
it's like old times, waiting for him
to speak, arrange our day.
He takes me to one side, charcoal
smoke snagging his robe.
"Simon, do you love me love me love me?"
He knows when I sit and when I rise
but is heart-sore for answers
I blurt across the hills, over the lake,
above echoes of cock-crow
only the two of us can hear.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 1:41 PM UTC
I'm the first to blunder ashore
******* a cloak around my nakedness.
He's cooking breakfast
as though nothing had happened.
No death on a tree, no empty tomb,
no walking through closed doors.
We share the bread he breaks,
relish flakes of sizzling fish
that juice our mouths, tang
the fingers we lick clean.
We pick bones from our teeth,
bask,full-bellied,and for a while
it's like old times, waiting for him
to speak, arrange our day.
He takes me to one side, charcoal
smoke snagging his robe.
"Simon, do you love me love me love me?"
He knows when I sit and when I rise
but is heart-sore for answers
I blurt across the hills, over the lake,
above echoes of cock-crow
only the two of us can hear.
John 21
