CLARA SALA

PONTIUS PILATE'S WIFE

“(Pilate’s) wife sent him a message:
‘Do not interfere in the case of
that holy man. I had a dream
about him today which has greatly
disturbed me.’”
                     —Matthew 27, 19

I told him
(that idiot, I know he
he believes me)
he is a coward
he retorts, “what would it look like:
‘oh, my wife had a bad dream,
I won’t hand him over.’”
I am a Roman, he says
we are a logical people
prophets come and go
like fleeing dreams
the Empire is eternal
(he doesn’t believe that)
I told him
a coward is a coward
and you are wrong about Rome
and the prophet
but I see you made sure
your hands are washed
in time for supper

 

FERRY RIDE TOWARD MANHATTAN
 

the Statue of Liberty

slipping behind the boat

shields of light beam through clouds

Jersey oil rigs   mechanical giraffes

distant American flag ripples  gray nervous

ferry’s slowing wake

I slowly wake

bye bye baby

downtown Manhattan 

is the flat postcard face of my lover

red lipstick gone   her steel lips

her skyscraper hips

bye bye baby

I’m     

leaving

you

the light behind

you holds what

you promised

more now

more than a dead green statue

uplift your arms

both of them

free

Clara Sala is a poet and evolutionary astrologer who divides her time between her native NYC and the west coast.