he gathers from each a fear
a fruit
a plea
a potato
passed with sweaty palms to him
their eyes dare not raise above his pomegranate hem
he gathers their cries
their wood
anything that might be gold
goes inside
balancing on one foot
and washing the other
careful with the shoulder clasps
layers of linen flat on his chest
the heavy jeweled vest
meld to his flesh
the basket’s burden is much more than its weight
in four layers of white
shuffling slowly Inward
a trembling ankle rope tethers him
but brings no comfort —
they cannot save him
to say the Name and live another day
is to seal the People for another year
he shuffles slowly, serving
