Crumbs of Bread
Chris Forhan

Assigned to keep the goats and sheep, I'd
slip out in search of the streets of the martyrs,
forebears who'd slept on beds of thorns,
whose lopped off heads had rolled in baskets
singing still, to shame their betrayers.
I read my fortune in every star
and shadow. Dawdling in shops and inns,
I expected the tongue to be cut from my mouth
and chant, undaunted, from my enemy's hand.

ISBN 1-882983-00-9
23 pages/$6