Holy Wednesday Gardening

 Harvey S. Mozolak

a day spent pulling weeds

with roots so deep

they break leaving their insidious

nature still tapped to brimstone

hand digging holes

lifting cores of dirt and clumps of clay

staining earth into the cuticles

of my tombstone-shaped fingernails

to plant flowers

in the holy week hours

of Wednesday close to the day

of the loaf and cup

which sop Friday’s flesh and blood

the small cuts and abrasions

felt in my soft palms show

I have left cells in the ground

in advance of my burial