come Friday

come Friday
palms were stuffed
into trash cans
for the post-Passover
pick-up;

nails
were strewn
in the path
of the
cross-bearer;

little kids
stopped their games
of streetball,
pressing their backs
against shadowed
walls

as death
came striding by,
arm-in-arm
with
Pilate and Herod;

and
the silence
from his friends
was deafening.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman