easter

i sat staring at the rock

waiting for the room

to open, and with it

hope for no

hangovers or sore necks

i waited like that old prostitute

that was put in a hole of her own

years ago

between the first and second

time he came

but it sat, as rocks tend to do

and i waited, in folds of blankets

at the kitchen table

on the city hall grass

by the river

i waited for you to save me

and alchemy my robe

but the room was silent

and the day was long