The right, she asks,
and the left, she asks,
a question engendering
a question. Can you, he
asks, can you drink
this cup, he asks.
Of course, of course, of course
we can. Sadness of the ages
crowds his eyes, and
something else. You will,
he says, you will drink
this cup, he says.
On the hill that day
I looked to his left, I looked
to his right, understanding
only then what we had asked,
knowing only then what
cup he drank for us.
