Jake's Flea Market

i’d walk over the waves like galilee was a sodded plain

the sun- risen morning of the last day i’d 
open like shutters and stride through 
the division in judgement robes

after the last day i’d raise my hand and bless
the wafer   i’d raise my hand and bless the wine

and by the holes rusted into the palms of my hands
by roman spikes i’d make myself known

all this i’d do   before i’d believe   in an unholy ghost

this is what i told marcellus