POETRY
“Gethsemane,” read by Matthew J. Andrews.
Gethsemane
The olive trees still stand, kept up
by a miracle of sweat in the soil.
Centuries go by, and so much more blood,
each night swampy with its wailing.
The trees weep at dawn, when the sky
burns red but never opens.
Matthew J. Andrews is a private investigator and writer. He is the author of the chapbook I Close My Eyes and I Almost Remember, and his work has appeared in Rust + Moth, Pithead Chapel, and EcoTheo Review, among others.
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Artwork: Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane by Raffaellino Dal Colle. Public Domain.
Heart of Flesh Literary Journal 