We Got No Jesus
by Linda Trott Dickman
for lost souls
Down Cropsey Avenue, lugging two railroad ties
all that remains of a garden boundary, headed
for the landfill they called Trash of Ages.
Joey, Lance and Tony passed Larry the homeless guy
lying on the side of the road
like a wrap, a blanket over his two piece suit.
Tony found a trinity of long nails. Let’s build a cross.
Joey said, “We got no Jesus.”
We could hang Larry down at Graves end.
“But we wouldn’t kill him right? Just tie him up there.”
Tony fingered the nails. We got no rope.
They entered Calvert Park, poking around the cans.
Here, near the sign, let’s dig.
Calvera Bros. Constucion. Hey, that means skull
Tony stumbled over dolls, plastic trikes, landed
palms down in overripe avocados,
a rusted metal sign for Rose St.. Hole dug, cross built, Larry
still, sleeping like the dead. Hey, lay him out, help me
Joey and Lance lifted Larry, lowered him
lightly on the ties.
Lance saw a box and read “Hey INRI, just like Jesus.”
He grabbed a piece of charred wood, first “I” to “L” in one stab.
Gimme those nails. They held his hands out. Tony found a cast
iron pan. Wham! left, Wham! Right. Larry was awake, not aware.
they lifted the contents of his fallen bottle on a sponge.
His shoeless feet clung to one another. Wham!
These rails that had supported so much travel
would carry one more passenger, home.