THE DAY AFTER EASTER
They took the arms off all the angels, they
ripped the singing bells from off the steeple's's side.
'This is now and that was then; these are things we
can't abide.' On the day after Easter already,
whitewashing Christ Chapel was well underway.
-
It is a narrow lane, fenced off now with red wagons
and gates that swing open : the old farmer's wife is
still baking her pies and cakes, while he is at work
and singing in the fields - turning the soil, roughing
the rows of last year's crop, now fallen and
dry in the winnows of what must be.
-
These are stories on liquid pages, storybook
tales on nearly transparent paper. The small
family from Honduras, already at work on
making a life, all wear new jackets, made from
burlap and stife, the things cast off by old
angels and saints. They have taken the
arms off the icons already, and the old,
old bells have grown silent along
the now quiet street.
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