come Thursday

come Thursday
the powers-that-be
were being themselves,
lining up lackeys
to do their dirty work;
taking money
from petty cash
to pay a bribe
under the table;

Jesus was up early
working out his frustrations
as he kneaded the bread,
letting the grace
rise to a double measure;

decanting the wine,
he giggled
as the rich bouquet
of hope (with just a hint
of promise)
filled the room;

shaking the wrinkles
out of the tablecloth
(cross-stitched
with the names of all
who had eaten with him
over the years),
he spread it over
the scarred table.

now,
everything was ready

come Thursday.

(c) 2008 Thom M. Shuman