Pat Jones

Satan Visits Christ’s Body in the Tomb

by Christopher Hanson

The sacred blood that flowed and bled through veins
was never wasted — never, not for me;
for all your tricks, no matter what remains,
I rule the earth now. God, the irony.

When offered all the world, you wouldn't bow
(I made you blink, though — yes, I saw the look),
and through the trial and death, I wondered how
you’d cope. When curtains ripped and mountains shook,
I panicked (for a second), then it hit:
You’re gone. They failed. And here you lie, as still
and dead as any corpse in any pit.
Don’t tell me this was all part of his will.

They’re coming now; I smell them in the sky.
Let's see them save you this time.
                                                    Gotta fly.

Christopher Hanson lives in rural Australia with his wife and three-year-old daughter. He is a high school English teacher by trade, and a musician by passion. His poetry has appeared in The Shit Creek Review, The Barefoot Muse, The Chimaera and The Loch Raven Review.