come Saturday

come Saturday,
Mary, MM, and Sally
were rearranging
the furniture
and cleaning up
the mess
from Friday's wake;

the guys,
who found their loss
uneased
no matter how much
they consumed last night,
took double doses
of painkillers
and stumbled back
to bed;

Jesus
lay in the chill
of the darkness,
his head cradled
in God's lap,
while she stroked
his hair,
humming the
Resurrection Lullaby.

come Saturday.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman