The Lord reached down

and gently rolled the stone

away, like a tailor pushing a

heel to the ground as he pins

a pair of trousers, or a barber

angling a head sideways with

fingers placed on either temple.

I am reminded of the tanned boy in Seville

who heaved our bags onto the train after we had

rushed through to the gate, late, then shook his head

aghast, alarmed, at the three silver coins in your extended

                                                                            palm.