Here

take this creaky basket

and collect all the rejected stones:

the wolves, the pigeons, the buffaloes,

shot dead as gravel for the roads

of this precious start-up town

Take them deep into the temple

and place them as altar-offering.

Let them fill the church

and preach the sermon

and break the bread

and invoke the Spirit.

The rejected will Sunday rejoice

front and center

wall to wall

they’ll build a forest in the sanctuary

thinking back before the fall.

The nations will come streaming

their eyes like rivers penitent

amidst sobs and songs of praise

the wolves will give absolution

the buffaloes speak blessings

and the pigeons circle

wide inside the golden dome.