The cock crow echoes upward
and out.
An ordinary rooster could never:
Look me square in the face and label me liar—
“You’re one fraudulent claim away from
bragging rights at recess.”
But an imposter is nothing more than a
Sheet of black ice imposing on a truth;
And how slippery this bird that won’t perch!
Always an ill-fit flit of wind and ransom
bargaining with my blood
(Even now with my stake bubbling bruises
purple and red;
How many times can one woman cheat death
before her Lord
And you ask me to deny him?)
First it is the serpent’s slander
“Is it really so?”
When we both know
The rooster won’t crow come morning.
About// hope
Postscript// bit of a spin on Peter’s denial at Mark 14:72
