The Last Supper

A guy on St. Marks Place sells lollipops
for five dollars each. I buy five and send them
to you to the wrong address with a note that says:
Have you noticed that roses crack and crumble 
to dust, like us, but faster? You don’t write back.

Forget forgiveness. I promise distance. I made a 
deal with myself that if I ever wrote another poem
about you I’d have to spend a whole day on the subway,
trying to convince people that the Last Supper was an 
Easter supper. I’ll do it tomorrow, and if I don’t I’ll sue

myself. Scarlet-hearted lover, will you be my lawyer?
The Last Supper was an Easter supper. I’m drenched
in russet sunset, and what better place to bleed?

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

i love the contradictions..i wrote you to the wrong address and you didn't write back...

death and ressurection , the last supper, the easter supper...

i like the question to the scarlet-hearted love...

be my lawyer while i sue. i like how the abstractness lets us ponder...forgive the other, or forgive myself...???

i like the subway reference, since i am from Bronx...and rode it several times when i was a kid.

we all crack and crumble and most of the time it seems that love, just like the rose that represents it..doesn't last either.

and intriguing write, Molly.

jacob