The Passion

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It’s one thing to resurrect from the dead:
Hell, millions of people do that every morning.

The real miracle
is to die and walk among the living—
parched, hungry, full of holes,
tongue broken and white as chalk,
sun moon stars and earth
pressing against the small of your back—
and nobody notices a thing.

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©A. D. Joyce, 2014

 

in search of a play

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it is the height of summer
in a residential neighborhood
the sun is a bare spotlight
on me age seven
standing on the front porch stage right
while people carry boxes
from my house to the truck
the little boy who comes over to play
asks where are you going
i say that we are moving
and i know my answer is a tangent
but it is the best i can muster
i start to say that daddy is not coming with us
but i am pulled by the hand
to exit in a daze stage left
the neighborhood is watching
and as i get into the car
i wonder if i will ever see
the little boy again

©A. D. Joyce, 2014