Poem for Monday, April 5, 2010

Easter Sunday

While children found the last of their

pink eggs among the grass and

tree branches,

while the evening hymns droned

from the palates of old

women and men,

while mothers and wives plopped

the leftover pot roast on their

second-best china sets,

while adamant shoppers

bought next year's decorations

for fractioned prices,

while men and women sweated

in giant white rabbit suits

for the last hour,

while all

of this

happened,

a man told me

just how much

blood

the Son of God lost:

all 3.5 liters

Jesus,

I thought we had

more blood

than that