Alphabet City

Earlier that week, I filled with hate,
the rank odor of Sanhedrin
elders, soiled smocks, unwashed feet,
telling us to stop the teachings.

I was so proud of the others,
they stood up finally for him,
putting the blood back on their hands,
keeping his blood there in our hearts.

Last night, the Tiberias Sea,
was chilled, but beautiful starpoints
hung there high over Galilee.

I told them to cast to the right,
but as always, they don’t listen.

I stopped caring I’m different.

I lie on my back in the boat,
massaged by the gentle rolling
waves, seduced by the briny winds.

I knew who it was before them,
the glorious sun outlined him,
there on the bank in silhouette,
waving us in. “How was the catch?”

The fire was already on,
bread from wild yeasts on flat stones.

He told them to cast to the right,
and of…