Multipurpose

I like to think the tree,

rough-hewn into Christ’s cross,

was also many other things—

trees are bigger than the condemned,

scarce enough in the almost-desert.

I’m sure its branches were shaved down

and made into wheels rumbling

their way to Rome, or a brand-new litter

special-ordered for a favorite eunuch

so that he could keep his feet clean

on the way to be dunked into a dirty little river.

Maybe a mother sheep showed a lamb

to eat from a manger made

of the same wood that held the body

I ate this Sunday, that soaked up the blood

that stained my tongue

and which I treasured until nightfall.