GOOD FRIDAY PARADE
After an hour on the curbstones,
Villagers in Sunday best,
Fathers tossing babies and buying
Ices licked by children, politely
Declined by tiny grandmothers,
See men in black suits issue
From the church portals:
Ten steps and a pause
For the bearer to rest.
Christ on His cross is a burden
To heavy to be borne by
Sidewalk poor, who may merely
Sprinkle herbs on paving stones.
Though among the Roman soldiers,
A small tough centenarian
Pipes wandering melodies
On an Indian flute.
Now tinseled, innocent
Child brides, excited
Virgins in white lace,
Carry small guilty symbols:
The cock and the dice.
And rows of black poppies:
Mothers in black mantillas,
Black hems high or low,
Totter on spike heels,
Platforms or thin-soled pumps.
How can they support these terrible
Angels wielding spikes
For their god’s feet?
Children again – choirboys
In purple collars, young
Heralds, announce the ponderous
Gold and glass casket. Mary,
Joseph and Magdalene follow,
And last the empty cross is
Mourned by the holy-day crowd.
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