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Poem-a-Day

Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday

 

No need for social distancing then. When

Christ came riding into Jerusalem

 

On a donkey, his bare feet nearly

Brushing the roadside rye, he was

 

At once vaccine and cure, his breath

Their ventilator. Death's dominion had come

 

Under his sway. All the throng could think

To do was to lay palm fronds down

 

Before him to calm the dust the way,

In 1918, they'd spray the unpaved roads

 

Of Middle Western towns from tanks on trucks

Driven by men whose faces were lost

 

Even to their children under the masks,

Worn not for the dust (which they were

 

Darkening as if with anointing water),

But for the air.

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