The Last SupperIApostles of the hidden sunAre come unto the room of breath Hung with the banging blinds of death, The body twelve, the spirit one, Far as the eye, in earth arrayed, The night shining, the supper laid. IIThe wine shone on the tablethat evening of history Like an enormous ruby in the bauble and mystery. In the glowing walls of the flickering decanter There moved His face as at the world's center. The hands of Judas showed up red and hurried And the light hit them so, like a cross carried The faces of the others were there and moving In the crystal of the dome, swiftly hovering. The saints, unders a lens, shrunken to pigmies, Gesticulated in birds or in colored enigmas. Outside there was a storm, the sound of temblors, The blood bubbled and sprang into the tumbers. When the morning came like a white wall of stone, The day lay in the glass and the blood was gone. -Oscar Williams Softly and Tenderly |