Reluctant Messiahs

Jesus hangs nailed to a splintered phone pole
just down the block at 4th and Main
with thorny crown, droopy arms, chin on chest
and lashes dry with ancient tear salt.

In view is the pillared granite bank,
in a bear market,
with blood on the wind
and wolves at the door,
a house of cards.

A ragged tramp sits upon a bucket
lethargic, sad eyed, and lonesome,
but claims he’ll work for food.

Lunch time bustle,
a passing banker doesn’t avert his eyes
and wonders aloud:
“I could toss him a fish,
but by what means do I teach him to fish?”

A motionless Jesus looks on,
still reluctant about any second coming.