[grantswank]

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SATUDAY’S PETER

I could not find him anywhere
Though I went back to check his chair.
He’s gone, laid low, or dead perhaps?

I don’t know except to say
My heart breaks blood for Peter’s sake.
He’d meant it good but turned it woe.

I know that I would coward be
If there by fire I’d met choregirl.
I know my weakness, oh, my lapse.

My heart goes out to counterpart
Who's lost in tears somewhere, somewhere.
I’ll hunt for him, I love him so.




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[grantswank]

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SATURDAY SPICES

I’m taking spices wrapped in gauze.
I’m taking them no matter what.
I know they’ve sealed him off from view.

I know the guard will drag my frame.
I know I know I know but still I’ll do
What I can do. I will. You, too?

You said you’d make the trek with me
To borrowed tomb. You said it, true?
So meet me in the vale at dawn. . .

Somehow we’ll trudge the spices’ bag.
Somehow we’ll make it to His side,
Somehow till my heart’s torn and won.




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