Easter Morning
By Amy Clampitt
a stone at dawn
cold water in the basin
these walls' rough plaster
imageless
after the hammering
of so much insistence
on the need for naming
after the travesties
that passed as faces,
grace: the unction
of sheer nonexistence
upwelling in this
hyacinthine freshet
of the unnamed
the faceless
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Our plan for Easter was to go to Philadelphia for the day to the Picasso exhibit at the art museum and to get ready for a visit to Penn with Daniel on Monday, but my neck was bright red and itching when I got up, so we thought it would probably be wiser to put off that trip to make sure it improved rather than got worse. Then we decided to go to Baltimore for the afternoon instead and try to meet up with
By then it was after 2 p.m., and
I did get to watch my two necessary Easter movies -- Jesus Christ Superstar, which was, in fact, my first exposure to the Passion story, since I grew up Jewish, and Life of Brian, probably my favorite commentary ever on organized religion. Plus we started watching the UConn women, but then we discovered that there were five fire trucks on the cul de sac across the street and went out to see what was going on (apparently a gas leak that the first truck couldn't track down), and were chatting with neighbors for an hour in the gorgeous night air that for the first time all day made my neck feel better. That, along with the fact that the Eagles are apparently going to trade Donovan McNabb to the Redskins, will have to serve as my good news for the day. Hope everyone in California in the earthquake zone came through unscathed!