4490. SAVENDER

SAVENDER

I took my crucible to its sickness bay  -  one of its
very own. Driving my Studebaker sideways through

the storm, it finally brought me home. Waiting for

me there, a magpie of some sort,  singing with string

and an apple. The cruet of wine atop the table, in a

dark-deep red hue, was enough for me. In my mind's

eye, unhindered, I was able to imagine : a myriad of

pyramids to dazzle that eye, to swizzle that stick, and

 to let me listen to the mourns and the moans of the

workers. 'Now no more straw for these bricks! And

Pharoah says we must gather our own! Mud, clay

and straw, water, block, labor and  tackle  -  all these

things for the work of a slave and the wages of but a

freeman on his straight way to Hell. Savender,

save us! Oh Messiah come now!