and rake the ashes on Mount Golgotha, looking for the poems he lost there. My dear, don’t weep, he said. One of them began “A bead like amber hung from pine”—so you may, he said, find my virtue glinting in the dust. The rosin of my heart, he said. My dear, he said, my litter of lost rosin.
Patrick Donnelly | Jesus said Papa Contents | Mudlark No. 61 (2016)