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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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