© Christopher Raine


Joseph of Arimathea


Feeling the breeze through 
the half-open kitchen window 
a rum and coke in my hand 
ice sparkles in caramel gold 
the cola fizz pops 
a battered barstool 
wearing a cheap suit
hangs like torn rags
over the Pillars of Heracles
I’d cry if I still could
I laugh because I can’t
feeling numb
and morosely self-aware
a taunting recognition
of hope glimmers
another glass
of reality shimmers
whispering beneath the shade
of an old lamp
lingering laugh lines
dreaming the sweet smile
of a summer lake
a hallowed loon clears
the yielding morning reeds
a drop of gold weeps
as the sun melts the waters