Long expired, gelatinous sweetmeats
cut like sugar-dusted limestone
sweat and pool inside their sealed white box
set deep in a domestic vault ;
behind poppy seeds, self-raising flour
and red dye – for resurrection recipes.
He brought them when he came,
a week before Greek Easter;
hauling them in a suitcase packed
to bursting with the lucent, marbled slabs:
Corporeal spoils before faith or his
steeped heart like these sweets fails.
First published in Obsessed By Pipework