The Second Glass

Lawrence Glasner

At Table.
On the night after I was betrayed.
He lifted high.
A silver glass of silver-red wine.
And blessed the Creator.
For the gift of the vine.

Looking round, He asked.
Who is my mother, and my brother?
But you, eyes fixed through me.
You bid His will. 
Hear me now, and bid it well.
When my Kingdom comes.
We’ll lift a second glass 

Mystified, i.
When, giving thanks.
He took bread.  
And broke it.
And in breaking, spoke it.
Down the line. 
Up/down in time.
Remember Me at table.
Breaking bread. 
Shed reddening wine.

Like a fool, I took the stand.
“I’ll fight the traitors like a man!
Father, mother.
Dearest friend and dearer brother.
Once we walked together in the house of the Lord.”

Thorn-in-hand lifted over me.
Singing seven times seventy in an ethereal key.
Forgive them, Father. 
For they know not what.
They know not what.

Then, in the Year of our Lord.
Kneeling, broke.
By grace breathing.
The Canticle of Deliverance.

As we forgive those.
Who trespass against us.
Forgive us our trespasses.

He looked up. 
And with stained hands.
Blessed my crown.
And smiling said.

In the Age to Come.
What is said. 
Is what is done.

We’ll sit round table. 
You and me.
And lift a second silver glass.
Of silver-red wine.
And laugh. 
Laughing in eternity.

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