I pull up to my cousin's house
and hanging from a tree not far from the drive:
two crosses.
Above is Francis-shaped from San Damiano.
Below a living Pocono Passion Play;
its convict sobbing and writhing.
She asks what it means and
I respond with certainty as if I know:
that child's lesson of sin's result.
That priest putting care on the paten
a thousand times.
That christ suffering every sling and arrow ad infinitum;
every white lie a lash.
Every five-finger discount a nail.
That beggar saint's cross above?
That's coded speech for the other Francis' declaration.
Remember first you are a sinner.
Remember next its consequence.
Tonight I commission a new dream.
No Sisyphus stone
rolled up again and again.
Another --- rolling sideways forever
on a barn door's wheels.
C. M. Carroll
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