Breathe

Damn that rooster’s crow.
I can’t catch my breath,
It happened so fast:
a kiss, a trial, a death.

His laugh still haunts me.
Turning suddenly serious
after cracking jokes over dinner,
his rambling about death and betrayal
sounded a little too mysterious.

The nerve to claim
that before rooster’s crow
I would deny our bond
by fire’s warming glow.

Then the post-feast coma,
strolling in cool evening air.
When he chided us for napping
we thought him unfair.

Something wasn’t quite right,
but how could I know?
My teacher and lover
gone without warning,
a gut-wrenching blow.

That bastard Judas sealed his fate
with a kiss of affection, then took
the easy way out, tried and convicted
by the gift of his pitying look.

But there was more than one betrayal
that night. How can I redeem my denial
when I can’t catch my breath?
It happened so fast:
a kiss, a trial, a death.

And what does it mean, this empty grave?
Is it true, Mary? Did you see the teacher alive?
Nothing makes sense as I sit in this room –
my lover’s gaze and touch I crave.
If it’s a hoax, I’m not sure I’ll survive.

A kiss, a trial, a death.
It happened so fast
I can’t catch my breath.
Damn that rooster’s crow.

©2019 Kenneth W. Arthur