Poetry + Praise of the divine and the Feminine

Who Prepared the Last Supper?

No, but really, who?

Luke wrote

that Jesus sent Peter + John to go and prepare the Passover feast, but

who milled and bought the flour? Whose oil did they use?

Who mixed the flour with oil and salt? Who pressed the dough and baked the bread?

Whose oven did they use?

Who harvested and treaded the grapes? Who fermented and stored the wine?

Who set the table?

Who drew and hauled the water for their thirst and for their foot washing?

It was the women, wasn’t it?

Unseen or unwritten, blotted or edited out,

the unread women of the Last Supper mopped the floors

where washwater splashed,

where the wine spilled,

where the oil dripped.

Cloaked in invisibility and politics, the women cleared the table and

washed the dishes

and put them away.

Jesus surely saw them.

I’d like to tell them I can see them, too.