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  • Bob Schildgen

Jesus's Caterer

by Bob Schildgen

Inside, the rented room was dim—

was quiet conversation and

they ended dinner with a hymn.

I don’t remember what it said.

We catered all the wine and bread.

What? Yes, before they sang a hymn

I couldn’t hear exactly what he said.

I cleared the dishes, rolled the cloth.

Oh yes, they paid a week ahead.

I mopped the floor and swept the hall.

Yeah, that was all a long time past—

the bread, the wine, they say he blessed—

I hear that now his best friends fast—

What? Oh yes, they did arrest

the guy, and then they marched him from

a garden later on that night.

I know who chiseled out the tomb

where they laid him when he died.

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