H.S. Mozolak
the small boy with a smirk
showed his sister his find
she frowned
where did you get them?
you weren’t up on the hill were you?he pushed his disheveled hair to the side
they clanked as he placed them
in the empty basket
perched by the rickety fence
in the yard beside their mud house
his hands dirty from their filth
rust and the redness
that wasn’t dried corrosion
you shouldn’t be touching things like that!
I’m telling mother where you werehe in threat and fear
no please don’t I’ll throw them awaythey left them there
she forgetting because her cousin
came to stay and play till sunset
and he occupied with a load of work
his father found for him
that was the eve of the Sabbath
and this morning was the first day of the week
the girl arose as she always did
hungry with so little to eat in the house
and as her mother left the door
carrying a bundle of sweet-smelling scents
the last spices of her garden
to sell as was her custom
to those on the path to the grave-ground
she spotted near the empty garden
the basket where her brother had left his “treasure”
look what Silas went and gotlifting the basket to complete her condemnation
she paused
inside she saw nested
atop the four heavy iron nail pegs
several small fragile eggs
mother
food to break fast
today you do not have to sell
to those who bury
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