There was a man,
the papers say,
saw your spongey image
on his toast.
And a woman
said she saw you
in a cloud-like apparition
as the sun danced across the walls,
then floating off, as the sun's rays dimmed.
But I've seen you,
time and again
in clear resolution
in these pages of words.
I've seen the dust on your feet,
and the desperate people
pressing in on you to make their broken bodies well.
I've seen you reclining at tables,
surrounded by women with too much jewellery,
and men who've left their lives behind -
to be at that table.
I've seen you weeping for a friend,
And I've heard you say,